Seekers In Shadow
by The Wobbly Guy
Summary: Sequel to New World Order. Far Traveller. Raging Bull. Lost Star. Their actions will change the Inner Sphere forever. Chapter 23. Enter: Manei Domini!
1. Prologue,Brotherhood

_Many have since wondered what exactly had delayed the Word of Blake assault on the Inner Sphere in late 3067. After all, they had built up massive stockpiles of mechs, ships, and most ominously, nuclear weapons._

_The answer to that question was neither simple or straightforward, but one of the key reasons was the revelation of new technology on Outreach in very early November 3067, just before the dissolution of the Star League. The Word of Blake was worried about the possibility of another faction hidden amongst the stars, which might have returned to foil their crusade._

_Even after our return to Outreach in late May 3068, with the assurance that there are no little green men out there (more or less), the Blakists did not bother to go ahead with their plan, because several events and opportunities had cropped up which could be extremely beneficial to their plan in the long run if they were patient._

_These events were the Black Dragon Rebellion, the Taurian Civil War, and a massive inter-clan war sparked by the Star Adders, Blood Spirits, and Fire Mandrills. It was a simple matter for Word of Blake analysts to realize that the dozens of military units that would invariably fall in these conflicts would outweigh the gains made by the battered, sundered halves of the former Federated Commonwealth, thus making their task all the easier._

_By formenting yet another rebellion in the Free Worlds League, they would reduce their long list of enemies yet further, increasing their chances of finally bringing their maddened philosophies to the Inner Sphere._

_On hindsight, they should not have waited. Patience was not always a virtue, especially in war._

_-_From_ The Word of Blake Contagion, _Frank Meronac

_Richard Cameron Spaceport, Terra_

_Chaos March_

_02nd May, 3068_

On a hilltop of green grass, the man known to some people as Landar stared out at the mass of dropships sitting on the tarmac of the spaceport, watching as loads of cargo marked with the sign of radioactive material rolled out of the massive transports into a nearby warehouse.

"Close, eh?" Banedon, his companion and fellow conspirator of many years walked up beside him. "Good to see that our plan is working."

"Yeah," Landar replied. "I would hate to see innocent people die from a stupid and senseless religious war fought for an equally asinine reason."

Banedon, a slender man with yellow hair, snorted, "If they had carried out their jihad, how many would have died before they were stopped?"

"The best estimates Falcon gave me for his psychohistory projections was about 20 billion people, with no assurance that the Houses and Clans would recover enough to counterattack back, and if they used nukes as well…" Landar's voice trailed off.

"Things would go down the drain faster than you can blink." Banedon sighed once. "But Falcon did say that wasn't likely, and the end result of the jihad would be a supposedly egalitarian republic dedicated to peace, probably founded by a survivor of the jihad."

This time it was Landar's turn to snort. "Oh yeah, and that same republic falls apart after its founder leaves or dies from old age because they were too stupid to check the HPGs for the Wobblies' final legacy. I never liked feudal societies anyway, and especially a feudal society masquerading as a republic only several decades old with loads of questionable policies to appease its supposedly 'equal' citizenry. This sort of artificial system falls apart far too easily for my liking, and the mass demobilization Falcon predicted is going to be a death warrant when the Enemy arrives."

A _Grand Crusader_ marched by beneath their vantage point, seemingly unaware of the two observers. Built like a walking brick, it mounted pulse lasers and two large missile racks, capable of flattening a city on its very own.

Landar stabbed his hand at the battlemech. "These are what is needed to drive back the enemy, not hastily modified agromechs and workmechs, which is just about all there would be in the future if we didn't interfere. Better the Enemy arrives in about five years time, drawn by the events on the Qlictorio staging world, then to arrive on their scheduled sweep about 70 years later facing a humanity without communications, working battlemechs, or even a significant force of veteran, hardened soldiers."

"You really think this could be the turning point?"

"Hell yeah. There are few other places in the whole goddamned universe where the local conditions are just right, and the clinching point are the young ones coming up. They'll make all the difference in the long run, instead of dying in senseless wars against each other or languishing in farms unable to fulfill their destiny because they're dying of old age. Not to mention the Ractori…"

"Who still have no idea of who they are." Banedon reminded him.

Landar shook off the reminder with a wave of his hand. "They will find out when the time is right. Right now, our plan is going well, and everything else should fall into place when it's time."

"Pieces on a samor chessboard." Banedon said wistfully. "You were never a good player of it, because you valued lives too highly."

"And I still do. Better to coerce the enemy into moving when it's to our advantage now, than to squander the advantage due to inaction."

"The Illuminati?"

"In the right place at the right time. The emergence of Frank Meronac was an unexpected bonus, and he'll be coming here soon. The lures we set back on Outreach should be dragging him here within 6 months. The Elders already have a plan to induct him…"

"But you have other ideas." Banedon was as astute as ever.

"Correct. The potential is there, though he might be a bit old. What's important, though, is there should be somebody with the skill and ability to unite the Inner Sphere when the Enemy arrives, and I think it should be Frank, and not Ian Dorlacen as our first choice."

"You ran this through Falcon and Tarandis?" It was a statement, not a question.

Landar nodded, a few wisps of blond hair flying down to momentarily cover his brow. "Yup. In fact, the odds are even better with Frank as the front man."

"You know, if I didn't know better, I would swear somebody up there," Banedon pointed a finger towards the sky, "is helping us this time. Nice change of pace."

Landar replied, "We deserve it after being on the receiving end for so long. I don't know about you, but I get the feeling that this could be the start of something greater than anything the galaxy has seen before."

Banedon watched as the last of the vehicles moved into the warehouse. "Maybe. But I think we'll be quite happy if they just manage to survive." A dull hum could be heard from the field.

The two men continued to look out onto the darkening sky as the dropships lifted off on long tongues of fusion flame, the roar of their engines drowning out everything else.

The Nice Guy Presents

Seekers in Shadow A Battletech Fanfiction Novel 

_Their names had since been etched on the annals of history, their deeds and accomplishments inspiration to so many after the disappointments of the Fed-Com Civil War._

_It was strange to many people that three men of such differing backgrounds managed to set aside their prejudices to swear allegiance to one another, and even stranger that they actually held to that vow despite future events._

_The entire concept was reminiscent of the way Liu Bei, Zhang Fei, and Guan Yu stood by each other in one of the most hallowed of Chinese literature classics, Romance of The Three Kingdoms. It was no real surprise, then, that the people of the Capellan Confederation were among the first to come around to the idea of the new Star League, no matter what Chancellor Liao said, because they seemed to have recognized something in Frank Meronac, Ian Calderon, and Descartin Winters that spoke to their cultural values of unquestioned loyalty and brotherhood._

_As for motives, quite a few people gave the reason of a shared goal for the future. Others cited their working together on Einstein, but the truth was even simpler._

_It all started with a combat exercise against the Wolf Dragoons and a barroom brawl in the same evening. And a lot of coincidences._

_-Movin' and Shakin', A Colloquial History of the 3rd Star League, _Daniel Mills

_Harlech Training Grounds, Outreach_

_Chaos March_

_3rd May 3068_

"I need some support now!" The frantic voice of Ian Dorlacen roared out over the comms as Descartin Winters idly played his hands over his joysticks.

Most of the others had long since given up on expecting any help from Des in this training exercise against the Wolf Dragoons, arranged just before their meeting with Jaime Wolf in the afternoon. General Maeve Wolf had wanted to test the mettle of the mercs, and they were more or less coerced into fighting her command with what they have on planet, which was not much.

In fact, the mech Des was riding actually belonged to the Dragoons, a 3N _Rifleman_ that had seen far better days. It was still a potent machine of war, however old and dated it was.

Except that Des had no stomach for war anymore. His _Rifleman_ stood far behind the front lines of the battle, a spectator unbothered even by the Dragoons, who were focusing on more accessible targets.

The training technology was truly state of the art. Each mech had been equipped with special programs and sensors that allowed them to fully simulate a real battle in almost every way, except physical combat. Even heat levels and tonnage loss were programmed into the mechs to mimic combat effects.

Des watched as Bryan's _Fenris_ exchanged fire with a Dragoon _Black Hawk_, both mechs going down as they cored each other in the same instant. The sight of the _Black Hawk _collapsing on his screen brought pangs of pain into his heart, as he remembered Deserk's final ride on Einstein.

Des turned away from his Heads-Up-Display, trying to shut out the images of the last few moments of the desperate struggle on Einstein. The wounds on his soul, not just from Deserk's death, but also from his easy acceptance of dying, had crippled him.

"Damn it, Des! We need your mech here!" It was Frank Meronac shouting for him this time.

Descartin looked around his display, picking out Frank's _Night Gyr_ as he blasted a Dragoon _Marauder II_ with his ultra autocannon, dumping it on the ground with the loss of an entire torso.

To no avail, as a _Wolfhound_ slashed through the _Gyr_'s rear armor, seeking out its ammo stores for the autocannon. It failed to hit the critical areas, but Frank was forced to jump his mech away from the line in order to shield his rear.

There were only 4 mechs left from their side, not counting Des' _Rifleman_. Frank's _Night Gyr_, Ian's modified _Awesome_, Daniela Mattlov's _Masakari_, and Yoshino Ihara's _Nobori-Nin_. They faced Maeve Wolf's _Thunderbolt_, Brian Cameron's _Loki_, a _Beowulf_, a _Wolfhound_, another _Loki_, and two omni-_Blackjacks_.

The Dragoons wheeled their line with the _Thunderbolt_ as the pivot as they targeted Daniela's anchoring _Masakari_ with all their weapons. Daniela never stood a chance as her mech went down with a cored torso.

"Des, this is no time to be wallowing in the past. Time to fight!" Even Yoshino was beginning to panic as he realized that he had a one in three chance of being the next to be taken out.

"Forget it!" Ian's exasperation could be heard even through his heavy breathing due to the heat buildup in his mech. "If he wants to be a waste for the rest of his life, let him! Deserk's sacrifice _had_ been in vain!"

The comms crackled with a transmission from Maeve Wolf. "So, is this the best the clans have to offer? And I was wondering what you did to gain your reputation, much less a bloodname, Descartin Winters. Your sibko must be overrated."

Ian's words had already sparked a tiny flame of defiance in Des which would normally be quenched almost immediately by his depression, but Maeve's insult was what finally fanned the flame into an inferno. Des felt a long dormant fire alight inside him, pushing him into action.

Out of all the members of his sibko that had made it past cadet training to become warriors of the clan, he was the sole survivor left. The others had all died valiantly in battle, often holding out against terrible odds, much like what Deserk had done. What gave Maeve Wolf the right to say his sibko was overrated?

What did it mean if he did not even stand up for his sibkin? Des had already given up on himself, but he did not think he could abandon the memory of his fellows that easily. He came to the conclusion that he had to fight, if not for himself, then at least to ensure Deserk's sacrifice had meaning and value.

"My sibko was not overrated!" Des yelled out in anger as he accelerated the _Rifleman_ forward, smoothly dropping his crosshairs over a _Blackjack_, and depressing his triggers in a familiar motion.

Two large lasers and two medium autocannons hammered into the Inner Sphere omnimech, scouring away layers of armor and ripping into the mech's interior. A bright glow within the _Blackjack_ could be seen on his IR screen as it lost engine shielding.

A follow up shot by Ian into the _Blackjack_ finished it, dumping it onto the ground as Frank commented, "The sleeping giant awakes."

Des gasped for air as the _Rifleman_ overheated into the yellow zone, the sweat from his pores bursting out and evaporating just as quickly. His brain was already assessing the situation, trying to make sense of the data streaming on the screens, seeking any advantage in the battle.

Yoshino tried to jump his _Nobori-Nin _clear of a crossfire between Maeve and Brian Cameron, but his leg was shot off in midair, causing his mech to tumble to the ground impotently when it landed.

The other _Blackjack_ and _Loki_ ganged up on Des, seeking to remove the _Rifleman_, the weakest mech present, from the battle. Almost before they fired, Des felt the same peculiar sensation that had first appeared back on Einstein during that last climatic battle, as if he was standing upon a precipice, where falling either way could lead to death. Standing on the thin line between life and death, it seemed, had given him an incredible edge in battle, allowing him to target mechs with almost chilling precision.

If only he did not feel as if he would _really_ die if he took one wrong breath. And the turmoil racing through his mind did not help matters any, as he grappled anew with the thought of simply letting go and abandoning his mech, his life to the units firing on him, even if this was just an exercise.

The _Blackjack_ and _Loki_ missed with all their shots, even as Des replied with two autocannon bursts, the shots slamming into the _Loki's_ center torso in a series of pock-pock explosions, Des making small corrections on his joystick as he endeavored to keep his shot grouping close.

"Seems like the Nova Cat has decided to come out and play," Maeve remarked as she consolidated her units into two short lances for a final charge over the three remaining mechs.

Frank backed his _Night Gyr _up, while Ian moved his battered _Awesome_ even further back, as Des moved into the front to blunt the Dragoons' attack.

_Two to one odds_, Des noted. Not good at all, though he was determined to win this fight just to spite the Dragoons, especially after their slur against his sibkin.

The next few seconds was a flurry of near misses as the Dragoons sought _to_ take him out, but the _Rifleman_ was left untouched as Des fired back at the _Loki_, this time making sure to maintain a reasonable heat curve. The _Rifleman_ 3N was not equipped with double heat sinks.

Once again, his shots were all on target, the laser carving a path into the _Loki_ with a gray storm of autocannon shells following close behind. The _Loki_ shuddered once, then collapsed onto the ground with massive internal failures.

The _Beowulf_ and the remaining _Blackjack_ cut to one side, seeking to flank them while the _Thunderbolt_, a _Loki_, and the _Wolfhound_ charged straight into their guns.

Brian Cameron's _Loki_ twisted desperately to avoid a shot from Ian's heavy gauss rifle as two and a half hundred kilograms of metal flew through the air towards the thinly armored shell of the _Loki_, but it was in vain as the gauss slug punched viciously through the thin left leg armor, spinning the _Loki_ to the ground with the sheer violence of the impact.

But not before the _Loki_ cut loose with dual PPC streams into the _Awesome_, slicing into its leg and gimping the mech, leaving the _Awesome_ as just a heavily armed walking turret.

Frank fired his array of large lasers at the _Blackjack_, slicing away one arm of the mech. The _Blackjack_ tried to compensate for the loss of the arm, but overcorrected and toppled to the ground.

Maeve's _Thunderbolt_ unleashed a storm of missiles and lasers at Frank, the photon darts piercing the air in a horizontal rain as LRMs swarmed all over the _Night Gyr_ in multiple explosions created by the computer program installed by the Dragoon techs, even as the _Beowulf_ continued moving to their rear. The _Gyr_ staggered with the loss of at least 2 tons of armor, but managed to stay upright.

"Back to back! Form up on me!" Ian shouted.

"Gotcha!" Frank replied. Des did not reply, but turned his _Rifleman_ to face the _Beowulf_, moving behind the _Awesome_ to cover its rear.

"They're going to target our backsides at all angles, so use your front armor as shields for the guy standing behind you. Keep each other alive no matter what." Ian said, then added, "Hey, I don't like losing either, not even to Dragoons."

_Nor I_, Des confirmed silently. He then spoke aloud, "Take out the _Loki_. It is trying to snipe from the ground." The _Loki_ he had mentioned was using its arm to lever itself into a firing position, only to be foiled when Ian pumped another heavy gauss round through its center, the force of the round crashing through the internal structure and wrecking the engine.

"Done. Good idea with the talking, though. Keep in touch," said Ian.

The _Beowulf_ finally started an attack run on them against Ian's rear, but Des quickly shifted his _Rifleman_ over to block any clear shots to the back armor. Incidentally, that also allowed the _Rifleman_'s infamously thin paper tissue rear armor to be shielded by the massive bulk of the _Awesome_.

"_Beowulf _starting run." Des sounded out the same instant Frank said, "_Blackjack_'s back up, _Wolfhound_'s attacking me. I'll try to hold them off, but no guarantees."

"Frank, forget about those two, and con-fire at the _T-Bolt_. Maeve's the best pilot here, and we need to take her out." Ian ordered. Sounds of explosions could be heard in the background, obviously from the _Thunderbolt_'s missiles on the _Awesome_.

The next few moments were a distinct haze to Des, as all the mechs remaining on the field took shots at one another. The _Beowulf_ tried to take him since it was unable to hit the _Awesome_, but missed with all its weapons, while he blasted apart its left torso with one good volley from all his weapons, gambling on his heat levels.

The shells from his autocannon tore apart the torso armor moments before his lasers melted several nice round holes through the internal structure, where the computer painted a blank blue area because it was unable to simulate the scenery behind the _Beowulf_.

_Now it is three on three_, Des told himself.

Meanwhile, Ian was in trouble, losing both of his arms to salvos from the other three Dragoon mechs, as well as most of his engine shielding.

Frank was trying to provide some support, but the _Thunderbolt_ was a solid design with heavy armor, while Maeve Wolf was not General of the Wolf Dragoons for nothing. She sidestepped his laser blasts, ducked her mech's head to avoid his pulse lasers, and plain baffled his best efforts.

Ian fared better, connecting with both ER PPCs before one PPC was ripped away with the arm. His most deadly weapon, the heavy gauss rifle, missed as the _Thunderbolt_ ignited its jumpjets just before the slug flew into the area it had vacated.

Des was taken aback momentarily by the jump capability of the _T-Bolt_, but he quickly recovered as he punched in a query into the computer for the most likely configuration of Maeve's mech.

The result he got was not encouraging. A _Thunderbolt_ modified with clan technology, it had a large pulse laser, three medium pulse lasers, and a LRM launcher tied to an Artemis Fire Control System.

"Frank, Ian, leave the _Thunderbolt_ to me. Maeve is not going to let you get an easy shot, so you'll just be wasting your time. Take down the _Wolfhound_." Des suggested. The other two agreed with affirmative responses over the comms.

As one, the _Night Gyr_ and _Awesome_ turned on the spot to target the _Wolfhound_, even as the other three Dragoon mechs tried to kill the _Awesome_. Wreaths of fire blossomed on the _Awesome_, as it endured hit after hit from the Dragoons. The legs were stripped down so badly that all the actuators were damaged, while the left torso was cored through. Despite all that, Ian continued standing as he dished out as good as he got.

The _Awesome_ whipped a bolt of charged particles into the _Wolfhound_, then followed up with a heavy gauss slug right into its center, along with several pulses from its lasers. Frank contributed his own lasers to the _Wolfhound_'s misery, but the outcome for the light mech was never in doubt. The _Wolfhound_, missing an arm, a leg, and its entire torso, crashed to the ground.

Des faced down the Thunderbolt, and as he targeted the already damaged right leg of the mech, he whispered softly in a challenge to Maeve, "I am the best of all the clans. You think you are good enough to defeat me? Prove it."

He fired his autocannons into the leg, paring the armor down to a minimum. It was not enough to bother the mech in any way, but Des had not intended to take down the _Thunderbolt_ with just one salvo, which he could have if he had used his lasers as well.

No, he wanted to take Maeve apart slowly.

Maeve switched her attention from Ian's _Awesome_ to his _Rifleman_, and Des instinctively reached out with his senses, trying to gauge her next course of action. He knew what she wanted to do even before she knew it herself.

Her right arm rose up as the mounted pulse laser flashed out at his _Rifleman_, but Des had already glided his mech away almost nonchalantly, knowing that doing so would infuriate the Dragoon general.

"Come on, _general_." Des taunted.

Frank and Ian took on the remaining mech, the _Blackjack_. The _Blackjack_ fired its shotgun autocannon, the hail of slugs reaching out to exploit the many gaping holes in the _Awesome_, now looking like a worm ridden corpse.

Except that Frank moved his _Night Gyr_ into the way, taking the many cluster rounds all over it. The _Night Gyr_ was not in much better condition, but it still had armor over most parts of the mech.

The _Night Gyr_ fired its ultra-heavy autocannon as it marched in front of the _Awesome_, shielding it from the _Blackjack_'s fire. The moment Frank cleared the _Awesome_'s body, Ian triggered his last round for the heavy gauss.

It crossed the distance between the _Awesome_ and the _Blackjack_ in an instant, battering the _Blackjack_ even as it staggered under the _Gyr_'s assault. The _Blackjack_ went down again, and apparently the computers had decided that the fall had caused it too much damage, because the mech did not move again.

Leaving only Maeve alone to face off against the three remaining members of the Einstein expedition.

"Leave her to me." Descartin Winters commanded softly as he dueled with Maeve Wolf.

"Sure, whatever makes you happy." Frank apparently knew he was no match for the trueborn Dragoon.

"I'll just stay here and watch," Ian added in a chuckle. His _Awesome_ had lost both its hip actuators. There was no way the mech could participate in the duel, which had already moved beyond the range of its remaining weapons.

The Dragoon fired again and again, but Des slipped his _Rifleman_ away with apparent ease every time, while chipping away at its protection with his autocannons and lasers, taking care not to penetrate to the internals yet.

"Is this the best you could do?" Des's voice bubbled with laughter. "I have faced cadets who could shoot better than you!"

"Stand still, damn you!" Maeve's frustration was evident.

"Obligingly." Des halted the _Rifleman_ into place. "Take your best shot."

To everybody's surprise, except for one exceptional observer, all her shots missed.

Des did not hold back any more, as he simply fired everything he had at the _Thunderbolt_'s center torso. The _Thunderbolt_ disappeared from his radar screen, leaving only the three mechs of the survivors of Einstein standing in the field.

Almost immediately, the fire that Des felt inside him during the battle ebbed away, leaving only the emptiness behind, clutching his soul in its cold, relentless grip.

"Nice battle." A tall elemental remarked as the boisterous group of mercs, save for a somber Descartin, left the hangar bays, where they had left their mechs.

The judges had ruled in favor of an unanimous victory for the Mercs in Black, a quirky name Frank had tentatively suggested for their unit. Not that the decision was in any doubt, with the MIB holding the field by dint of their three remaining mechs.

All of which would not be possible if Des had not suddenly stepped into the battle. He had been responsible for at least three kills, including Maeve Wolf's _Thunderbolt_. Frank and Ian were the happiest of all, knowing what the results of the exercise could mean for their reputation. They had already planned to take Descartin out for a wild night in the bars of Harlech, over his most vehement protests.

The elemental had stepped out from where he had been waiting near the bay doors, stopping the group. He was an impressive specimen, two and a half meters of sheer muscle, but with a graceful and confident manner that prompted respect. His blue dragoon uniform was well ironed, adorned with the rank insignia of a major and the patches of many campaigns.

Ian stood to alert, ready for a fight with a belligerent Dragoon, but Des laid a hand on his shoulder, and said, "I know him. Go on, talk to Commander Jaime Wolf. I will join you later."

The elemental added. "The Commander will see you in conference room 3A. Its in the fourth floor of the office block."

Frank and the others moved off, but shot the two several glances as they did so.

Descartin knew the elemental well, for in a way, they were family.

"It has been a long time, Leon."

Major Leon Winters spoke in the characteristic rumble of most elementals. "Indeed. When last we met, you had not earned your bloodname yet. Many battles have been fought and many warriors lost since then."

Des allowed some of his sadness to leak through. "Yes, many warriors. Too many, it seems."

"Descartin, I didn't exactly come here for small talk. For many years now, former Nova Cats taken as abtakha by the Dragoons on Luthien have been lost in battle. Their veneers have been preserved, their codices retained, yet there was no proper way to return them to the clan."

Des's interest was piqued. "You could have sent them to the Nova Cats after the Abjuration."

"Neg. Commander Wolf did not trust the arrangements of the Draconis Combine, and no Nova Cat was willing to set foot on a world of mercenaries. That is, until you arrived."

Des caught on quickly. "You want me to go to Irece with their legacies?"

"Aff. Even as a former Nova Cat, you are well-known to us, and a warrior of skill and courage. You are not a Dragoon, so Commander Wolf will hardly object to risking _your_ life. At the same time, the clan will also not turn you away."

"And are these the only reasons?

"Neg. Commander Wolf also has a special missive to give to Tai-Sho Narimasa Asano of the Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery, and he wants you to do it, since it would be convenient for you to stop on Luthien."

Des could tell that was not all. "And?" He prompted.

Leon sighed. "If nothing else, you'll be doing this for Deserk. I have heard of what happened, and his deeds are worthy of mention within the annals of the clan."

Des looked up into the blue sky, laden with clouds. "When I met him on Einstein, I was shocked at what he had become. I supposed I was also jealous, because he had found something that I would never find, happiness and contentment. And it hurts like hell to lose him a second time, when he had everything to live for."

"And that emptiness within you, it has made you invincible, quiaff?"

"What are you talking about?"

Leon leaned back on the bay door. "During your fight, I was monitoring the battle along with Commander Wolf. When you started hammering Maeve's units, Wolf ordered me to pay extra attention to your mech. For some strange reason, nobody could get a targeting lock on your _Rifleman_. Nobody could hit your mech, and nobody got away once you decided they had to go down. And if that wasn't strange enough, Wolf didn't say much, but simply told me to have you meet him privately after the rest of the mercs, concerning the private message to Narimasa Asano."

"Nobody could target my mech?" Des asked, even as the hairs on his head began to stand up. The lack of a targeting lock had occurred to him too, except it was a red and black _Archer_ in his sights on Luthien years ago. The _Archer_ also took down every mech that came near it too. Des had privately vowed to kill the pilot of the _Archer_ if he ever discovered the pilot's identity.

"I thought it was a mechanical fault, and the techs agreed, but Wolf told them not to bother. He said there wasn't anything wrong with the mech, and he was right." Leon looked quizzedly at Des. "If there's anything you think you can tell me, say so now."

"I cannot explain it." Des shook his head. "I doubt I will ever understand it."

Des was grateful when Leon nodded, accepting his statement. "So about the trip to the Draconis Combine?"

"Let me talk to Jaime Wolf, I will make a decision after that."

"Then come on, I'll show you around the place. The Dragoons may be stravag mercenaries, but we are the best equipped stravag mercenaries this side of the galaxy." Leon started to drag a reluctant Descartin along.

Frank Meronac was grateful, not for the first time, that he wasn't the head honcho of the whole idea, that Ian was in charge.

Ian and his lawyer Fabien Dacort, were sparring verbally with no less than Commander Jaime Wolf, legendary mechwarrior and leader of the most feared mercenaries in the Inner Sphere, on everything from future contract remuneration to recruitment.

The way they were debating every single point made his head hurt.

Frank looked around the table to see the other mercs lounging in the chairs of the conference room, picking at plates of food taken from the buffet course laid just outside. They were eating quietly, and talking softly so that they would not interrupt the obviously heated discussion between Ian and Wolf.

They needed the Dragoons' help to cover their asses, as well as for practically every damn thing to start a new mercenary brigade off the ground. From material supplies to money to contract negotiation, as well as the paying off of old debts, they needed to use Dragoon funds to use, paying them back with technology from Einstein. Ian also wanted extra monies in the deal, so that they could expand the unit once everything was settled down.

Also, all the surviving Dragoons who had fought alongside the mercs had already signed on with the MIB, something which Frank was sure Wolf would not let slide without a concession in return.

All of a sudden, the sound of argument abruptly disappeared, causing Frank, and everybody else in the room, to turn their attention back to arguing men.

Ian stood up and shook hands with Jaime Wolf, broad smiles on the faces of both men.

"It has been good bargaining with you, Commander."

Jaime Wolf smiled even broader. "And you have learnt a great deal since you first tried to subcontract with us. You, and this new unit, will go far."

Jaime turned his head, and his piercing eyes stabbed through Frank. "Doctor Frank Meronac, isn't it?"

Frank tried to get his voice past the sudden obstruction in his throat. They had introduced one another when they had first met, but it was different then. He felt uncomfortable under Wolf's hard gaze. "Yes, it is."

"Graduated, NAIS, in 3062. Assigned to 2nd Davion Guards. Went through the entire mess on New Avalon." With those words, Wolf showed that he was not a man to be trifled with, as well as the capabilities of Wolfnet. "So how's your research coming along?"

"So-so. Things are tough, even with the resources of the University of Outreach that you have so graciously provided." No point in _not _buttering up to one of the most influential men in the Inner Sphere, Frank told himself. "The technology we have recovered is far beyond anything even the R&D teams at the NAIS dreamed up of. The closest analogy is that we're the cavemen trying to put together a working KF drive. And right now, I really feel like a caveman."

Wolf nodded in understanding. "Nothing ever worth doing comes along easily. And what about your investigation of the information source?" Obviously he had been briefed on their discovery of Landar's locker.

Ian answered this question, "We managed to get some of the answers to the questions, but there's still quite a few obscure ones left hanging. We also got the poem we found to a literature professor, who gave us the reference to a series of novels by a 20th century writer called Tolkien. We found the poem relatively quickly, but the literature professor was too busy to explain it to us, so we were left to read through the whole series for its meaning."

Frank interjected, "You mean _I_ was left to read through the whole series."

"Hey, I don't really see you complaining, right?" Ian glared, "And since I caught you that day reading it when you were supposed to be working, I guess it can't be all bad, eh?"

Frank had the good grace to be embarrassed. "Heh. It's really a good book, I admit. I also found out about the meaning of the poem last night, though I wasn't sure about it."

"And you're telling me now?" Ian looked cross.

"Too many things going on. Better late than never?" Frank smiled hopefully.

"Alright." Ian rolled his eyes. "So what does it mean?"

"Basically, the whole poem refers to the return of a lost king to his rightful throne." Frank noted Ian's face suddenly paling, but continued. "The poem was said to be related to one of us, but who could it be?" Frank stared straight at Ian. Ian's reaction to the poem certainly was, in Frank's eyes, a deer in the headlights look.

A guilty man's look.

"I have no idea," Ian said, as Wolf shot him a sharp glance.

Frank knew that there was a strong possibility of the meaning of the poem being tied to Ian, but he wasn't about to probe any further if Ian didn't want to tell him, even if it might be important. What was one clue anyway, more or less?

"About the other questions…" Wolf trailed off.

"Uh," Frank recalled quickly, "The first question was too vague. We couldn't understand it, because there are, quite simply, no winners in a civil war, except for those watching from the sidelines. That still leaves us with more than five possible answers."

"As for the second, I think the answers is that free information is the sole guarantor of freedom, but again, that is highly debatable. If so, then it should be Comstar or the Word of Blake who have it all. I actually think the Wobblies have more, since Terra is the repository of the bulk of the knowledge amassed. Scuttlebutt at the NAIS when I was there was that Comstar had even more research projects going on than we did. Guess all that is in the hands of the Wobblies now."

Wolf shook his head. "Almost correct, but Comstar also made sure that most of the research were destroyed."

"Yeah, but the basic information is still there, which is not exactly easy to get rid off. University and research centers often have backup memory cores hidden somewhere in case somebody decides to flatten the place. Those backups could be recovered. Sort of a doubled edged sword, when you think about it."

"Then the third question, the one about the grassy knoll?"

Frank shrugged. "I have no idea what that meant. Probably some obscure reference lost to time. Ditto for the next question, though I think the archives back at the NAIS should have the answer as to who Akern Sanders is."

He continued, sipping at a glass of soft drink. "The questions about our identities were vague, like all the others, but I don't see how important that is. I mean, I _know _myself. Same with the others."

"The last question, about the symbol on the box, was the worst of all. How the heck are we supposed to find out?" Frank whined.

Wolf considered for a moment, then said, "Well, you did say that the largest information stores were either on New Avalon or Terra. In other words, these may be the places you were supposed to go to."

That stopped Frank for a moment, as he churned over what Wolf's words. "Places I was supposed to go to…"

"Frank, you _are_ going to New Avalon, right?" Ian pointed out, "So that simply adds one more task for you."

"Oh yeah, just one more task." Frank replied sarcastically. "Try to get Team Banzai to Einstein. Shop for a possible contract with the Princess Regent. Look for warriors who might be willing to sign up, and now you want me to try to find the people who set us up in the first place. Anything else for me, like maybe looking around for a warship or two for sale?"

"Relax, Frank. Nobody's going to demand that you accomplish it all. Lorik's going along to help you, and the reason why we can't send any more people along is because I and the others have even more stuff on our hands. You know the place, you know the people. Just take your time."

A resigned Frank held up his hands, "I understand. Doesn't make it any easier being the 'chief investigator' though. But what will _you_ be doing?"

"I'm going to Taurus. The Taurian Concordat is well known for its industry, so maybe I could get into a partnership with a firm to get people to Einstein, so that we could get the production lines working."

Frank nodded, "That would be great. But why not some of the other big firms like Ceres Metals, or General Motors?"

"They have their hand in too many pies. I don't want them leaking our secrets to the Successor States. I want to look for some small firm with promise and trained labor for our needs."

Jaime Wolf added, "What Ian is proposing is similar to what we did with Blackwell Corporation. In time, that would be a steady source of income, as well as providing your unit with a way to quickly replenish your mechs."

Wolf smiled like his namesake. "It seems that we will have a strong competitor soon."

Ian groaned, "Come on, sir. We are still nowhere near the Dragoons, or even some of the other merc groups out there."

Wolf laughed. "In the future, you may be." His tone grew somber. "This is a time of great peril for mercenary commands. The Grey Death Legion was virtually destroyed on Hesperus, and other good units like the Blue Star Irregulars and the Illician Lancers took heavy losses." He did not mention the other fallen regiments, Storm's Metal Thunder, the Fighting Urukhai, and the Panzer Brigade. "I have a feeling that a great danger is on the way. But no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to be able to put a finger on it."

Frank and Ian looked at each other with identical grimaces on their faces. If something was bothering Jaime Wolf, they did not want to be the ones to find out, since it was very likely that they would be in way over their heads.

"Good afternoon, Commander." The tall elemental who had stopped them at the mech bay doors walked in, with Descartin Winters in tow.

"Excuse me, Ian, I would like to stay and chat, but I have some other matters to attend to. Good luck on your unit." Jaime Wolf moved over to the elemental, who leaned down to whisper into his ear. Wolf nodded, then walked out of the room with the elemental and Des.

"Wonder what that was all about?" Ian asked aloud, even as Frank was trying to stuff some fried noodles into his mouth with a pair of chopsticks, now freed from the rigors of talking.

"Commander Wolf," Des greeted the supreme leader of Wolf Dragoons. His tone was not fawning, but neither was it aggressive either, simply with respectful towards the elder warrior. Age in the Nova Cats was respected, not scorned.

Jaime Wolf had taken him to his personal office, while Leon waited outside.

"Star Captain Descartin Winters, currently of the Goliath Scorpions. I doubt your Khan will be pleased to have you here, and Comstar would be having a fit if your presence here is revealed."

Des shrugged. "I do not care what they say. It matters not, quiaff?"

"Aff." Jaime sat down on his chair. "Do you know why I asked you here?"

"You want me to deliver a message to somebody in the Draconis Combine."

"Yes, but it's more of a favor to you."

"I do not understand."

"I saw what happened on the training field today, or more specifically, what you did. And I have seen it before."  
"You mean…"

"The lack of a targeting lock, your ability to carve apart your opponents with ease that is almost terrifying. I know something had recently happened to you, something to make all these abilities suddenly appear. And you feel terrible now, don't you?"

Des replied softly. "Aff."

"That happened to them too. One died during his last battle to save his men, one killed himself, and the last…" Wolf weighed his next words, then plunged on, "The last is still alive."

Des looked up. "Who is he?"

Wolf smiled grimly. "No, simply giving you that information would be too easy. All three of those men I mentioned took a long time to come to grips with what they had become, or were becoming. If you wish to know more, you must travel to the Draconis Combine."

"Then the man I seek is there? Perhaps he even fought at Luthien. I remember fighting an _Archer_ who was invincible."

"Yes, that is the man you seek. But tell me, why do you wish to find him?"

Des wanted to say that he wanted to kill the man, but suddenly he could not, as he realized, _the man has gone through what I am going through now. He might be able to help me_. Des did not think he could live with the pain in his soul much longer.

If there was anything to give his life purpose, he supposed only the red and black _Archer_ pilot could do it.

And he told Jaime Wolf so.

_When I wake up, well I know I'm gonna be  
I'm gonna be the man who wakes up next you.  
when I go out, yeah I know I'm gonna be  
I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you._

The man who was trying to sing roared out the lyrics, dreadfully off-key, while his friends cheered him on, as a couple of scantily clad girls danced, or more accurately, bounced on the stage.

_Cripes_, Ian thought. _Maybe this was a bad idea after all_. Well, at least the 'scenery' was nice.

Frank was staring dubiously at his own bottle of beer, while Descartin sat woodenly on his seat.

The three of them had entered the "Elysium", obviously a play of words on the famous "Valhalla" on Solaris Seven, an hour ago. Ian and Frank had hoped that an evening of over-drinking and raucous karaoke singing might shake Des out of his slump, but it wasn't working. It was a mistake thinking that Inner Sphere entertainment might be applied to a clan warrior.

To make matters worse, a group of mercs had hogged the microphone for the past twenty minutes, despite Frank's polite requests to allow the other patrons a chance. Ian decided not to argue back, and the end result was that their ears were subject to some of the worst tortures in known space, the abysmal singer.

_If I get drunk, well I know I'm gonna be  
I'm gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you.  
If I haver, yeah I know I'm gonna be  
I'm gonna be the man who's havering to you._

"So where are you going next?" Frank asked Descartin. "We could sure use your help, you know."

Des replied, taking a swig of his beer. "I have agreed to carry the legacies of the Nova Cat abtakha of the Dragoons back to the clan. It is an honorable duty."

"Yeah," Ian said, "But a man of your abilities and talents could do a lot more! If you want, we could get you to Solaris Seven…"

"Neg." Des said in a firm tone. "I will not fight for money, nor for mere entertainment of people."

"So are you going to the Draconis Combine alone?" Frank turned his head towards the stage to see if the group of mercs had grown tired of their 'singing'.

"Neg. Yoshino is coming along with me, because he was born there and could be a great help, and Tina still refuses to go back to the clan. Says she has great hopes of my exploits." Des let out a long suffering sigh. "Despite all that has happened, she still has not understood the true terrors of war, and that, more than anything else, will hinder her craft."

"Uhm, is there a way back to the clan homeworlds? I don't see any travel agency offering tours of Strana Mechty." Frank deadpanned. Ian could not tell if he was joking or serious.

"There is always a way. I could, for example, travel to the Rasalhague Republic, then cross the border into the Ghost Bear Dominion. I have several contacts within the Bears, and I could then take a ride on a Diamond Shark merchant vessel back to the homeworlds."

_But I would walk 500 miles  
An' I would walk 500 more  
Just to be that man who walks a thousand miles  
To fall down at your door._

"Pretty long ride," Ian quipped.

"Aff. But I am staying here in the Inner Sphere now for my own reasons, not for my clan. I would think the technology Jean brought back to Roche would be more than enough for the clan to forgive any rules I might have broken by coming here."

_And if they call for a Trial of Grievance, well, good luck to them._ Ian had no doubts as to the outcome of any fight involving Descartin Winters.

"The music here is atrocious." Des added, moments later. "I think I can do better."

Frank and Ian grinned. "Yup." At least Des was coming out of his shell.

"Hey! Get off me!" A yell caught the attention of the three men, as a huge woman who looked like a man, dressed in a reasonable facsimile of a combat uniform pushed several leering men away.

_No accounting for taste_, Ian moaned to himself. _Now, Daniela, she's something to chase. _But he still couldn't work up the guts to ask the fiery Jade Falcon out for dinner, and ordering her to just seemed… wrong.

The men were trying to press the issue, but apparently a few of her friends were not happy either. The few bouncers in the bar had taken note of the brewing fight, and were moving in to stop it before it escalated. Strangely enough, Ian could spot a few hints of interest on Des's face. It seemed that fighting of any sort would be entertainment enough for a clanner.

_When I'm working, yes I know I'm gonna be  
I'm gonna be the man who's working hard for you.  
When the money, comes in for the work I do  
I'll pass on almost every penny on to you._

As the bouncers moved in, Ian was very grateful that the owners had wisely prohibited everybody from bringing in weapons of any sort. Any firefight inside the bar would be fast, short, and very brutal.

Obviously, somebody had made an oversight, as a man suddenly pulled out a small holdout, and fired it at a bouncer. A girl screamed, and the entire bar erupted.

Almost before he knew it, Ian was punching his way left and right, trying to defend himself from the sudden press of bodies flinging themselves this way and that. No matter that he wasn't involved. Such brawls often have a way of pulling in everybody, as his long experience in mercenary bars had taught him.

And even the restriction against weapons didn't matter, as the mercs made their own and improvised. A table leg here, a broken bottle there. Glasses to serve as handy projectiles, and alcohol and lighters as incendiaries in a pinch.

_When I come home, oh I know I'm gonna be  
I'm gonna be the man who comes back home to you.  
If I grow old, well I know I'm gonna be  
I'm gonna be the man who's growing old with you._

Ian found himself fending off slashes from a man wielding a broken bottle, moving back constantly to avoid the deadly slivers of glass from slicing into him. His right forearm bled as the man managed to get a hit in, slashing viciously with the bottle.

Frank saved him by leaping into the fray with a table leg, using it with the aplomb of a master fencer. The hardened wood of the table leg smashed the bottle to smithereens with a few strong swipes by Frank, who finished off the man with a forward smash into his face. They looked around for Des.

They found Des kicking ass all over the floor, staking out a position as his personal territory, his legs lashing out at his assailants, many of which seemed too drunk to realize that they should have picked a better target.

_But I would walk 500 miles  
An' I would walk 500 more  
Just to be that man who walks a thousand miles  
To fall down at your door._

Two decidedly more sober mercs decided to serve as fire support, taking up glasses and shattered bottles, and throwing them at Des, who quickly found himself under siege, painfully blocking the projectiles with his limbs.

Ian charged forward, picking up a tabletop to serve as a shield as he advanced. Frank quickly picked up on his idea and put his weight behind it as well, the two smashing into the 'fire support unit'.

One man stepped around the table and almost flattened Frank with a solid roundhouse to his head, only to be dropkicked by Des into unconsciousness.

Ian took a quick look around, even as Des tried to help a groggy Frank to his feet.

"How do we get out of this mess?" Frank asked, shaking his head to clear it of the stars swimming merrily around it. Des pulled him to a temporary refuge behind the table.

"How about we clear the room of these surats?" Des growled.

Only to have Ian and Frank stare daggers at him.

"Just a suggestion." Des shrugged his shoulders.

_When I'm lonely, well I know I'm gonna be  
I'm gonna be the man whos lonely without you.  
An' when I'm dreaming, well I know I'm gonna dream  
I'm gonna dream about the time when I'm with you._

_And the music for the song had not even stopped!_ One part of Ian's mind noted.

He spied a bottle of vodka on the floor, apparently missed so far. An idea came to him.

"Cover my back, we're getting out of here."

"Huh?" Frank asked as Ian scooped up the bottle and took a long pull from it. "Ian, this is no time to be drinking!" Frank was appalled.

Ian ignored Frank as he started moving for the exit, pulling out his lighter as he did so. Frank and Des followed him closely, despite their own doubts.

Three men moved to block them. Ian quickly flicked his lighter on, the tiny flame flickering in front of his mouth as he squeeze-blew the vodka out of his mouth.

The tiny flame become a huge tongue of fire, causing the men to shrink back in fright.

"Come on!" Ian yelled quickly as he took another pull from the bottle. He had a sinking feeling that it would probably take a week for the taste of the vodka to leave his mouth.

_When I go out, well I know I'm gonna be  
I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you.  
An' when I come home, yes I know I'm gonna be  
I'm gonna be the man who comes back home with you.  
I'm gonna be the man who's coming home.. with you!_

Frank and Des charged together as Ian flamed off again, this time against their rear. Frank punched out one merc while Descartin bulldozed the other two _through_ the exit door.

The three men stumbled out into the open, a blast of cool night air sending tingles through their senses as a reprieve from the musty atmosphere of the bar.

"Keep moving. I don't want to have any trouble with the cops." Ian said as he pushed the other two into a side alley, leaving the three down and out mercs behind them.

Ian led them down one alley after another, getting away as far away from the bar as possible. They finally came to a small park, where they halted their flight.

Frank hunched over, panting heavily as he tried to recover from his exertions.

Descartin did not even seem fatigued, staring around at their surroundings, decorated by several small statues.

_But I would walk 500 miles  
An' I would walk 500 more  
Just to be that man who walks a thousand miles  
To fall down at your door._

Ian slapped Frank's back lightly. "Frank, you alright?"

"Yeah. Sort of. Heck, this wasn't even what we had in mind!"

"Well, I _was_ entertained." Des said, as he folded his arms across his chest.

Ian groaned. But before he could speak, he realized they weren't alone. The three shifted around, where a strange sight greeted them

An old withered Chinese man dressed in Taoist robes wandered around one of the statues, where some sort of altar had been set up, covered with rolls of yellow cloth and Chinese words, some of which Ian could make out as words meaning loyalty, brotherhood, and honor. The old man squinted a disgruntled eye towards them.

"Twelve o'clock, those punks told me!" The man ranted. "Twelve o'clock, the auspicious hour for their brotherhood swearing ceremony! _Chou wan ba dan_!

_Lousy bastards_, Ian translated silently. Years of fighting in the Chaos March had taught him the value of knowing the Chinese language, especially the widespread Mandarin version. The other versions of Cantonese and Teochew just made his head swim. Totally different accents, but the same writing form. Getting the accents and tones correct was the problem.

The man turned towards them. "I don't suppose you three jokers are here for the ceremony, eh? Hah-choo!" He sneezed once, a loud sound that startled them. "Young punks nowadays have no idea of the concepts of brotherhood if it bit them on their _pi gu_." Their asses, literally. "One day they are all fine and happy with each other, and the moment somebody disagrees with the others, everything else is thrown out the window!" He swung his arms around violently, ignoring the slime dripping down his nose. Ian shrank back in fear of the nose slime.

The man turned a baleful stare at Ian, "I don't suppose you're like that too, eh?"

Ian could only mutter, "No…"

"Good, good!" The man wiped his nose with a sleeve. "My name is Wang Lau Wu, and my business is in performing exorcisms, funeral services, and not incidentally, sworn brotherhood ceremonies. Just by looking at you three, I think your destinies might be pretty entwined! So why not make it official, and let me perform the ceremony for you? Only fifty C-bills!"

"Uh," Ian started to protest, "But we don't even know each other well…"

Wang ignored the agreeing nods of both Frank and Descartin, as he bore on, "The gods have brought you here! Tonight! Here! Don't you think there might be something in the fates for you three?"

"You might have a point there…" Des said.

"You can't be serious!" Ian smacked a palm against his head.

Des ignored Ian, "In the Nova Cats, whenever a warrior saves another, their souls become bound. Tonight, we have saved each other in the bar during a very dangerous situation. As such, our souls _are_ bound. So why not we make it official?"

"What does this sworn brotherhood thing mean?" Des asked Wang.

"Oh, it means that no matter what, you will have to back one another up. Sworn brothers must never fight amongst themselves, and they must be loyal. All too often, the ties between true sworn brothers are even closer than between blood siblings. There's also often a caveat about fighting against injustice, but that's optional."

"All right." Ian gave in. "Let's do it. With the justice part."

An exasperated Frank shook his head in disbelief, but he also agreed in the end.

"_Hen hao_!" Very good. "Now, what are your ages? You must decide seniority amongst yourselves, and the younger brothers must obey the elder."

Ian said, "I am 42 years old."

Des was next. "I have seen 38 winters."

"29." Frank was the youngest.

"Your names?" Wang had in his hands several sheets of paper, on which he was scribbling furiously. "These are certificates, by the way."

They gave him their names, after which he had them kneel down together before the altar.

Wang poured out wine into several small cups. "Pick up the cups." He told them.

As they did so, Wang lit several joss sticks on an urn on the altar.

"Repeat after me. We three, state your names in order of seniority."

Ian debated with himself for a moment, wondering if he should use his real name. _No, this is a serious matter, and so I shall not lie, for once._

"Ian Calderon." Frank spun his head suddenly to look at Ian. Ian continued to look straight ahead at the altar.

"Descartin Winters."

"…Frank Meronac."

"Swear upon the Heavens and the Underworld,"

"To bind ourselves in brotherhood."

"Combining our skills and strengths to help the weak,"

"Uphold justice, and defeat oppressors."

"That we shall be faithful and loyal to one another,"

"Even though we could not help our separate births,"

"But may we die on the same day."

"Witness our vows, and may the gods punish whoever shirks his obligation!"

"Now drink!" Wang ordered.

The three men drank together.

Ian could not help but feel as if the rice wine was trying to remove the enamel off his teeth, the burning sensation sliding down his throat in a storm of fire.

Above him, the sky flashed lightning, as the dull roll of thunder was heard.

_An' I would walk 500 miles  
An' I would walk 500 more  
Just to be that man who walks a thousand miles  
To fall down at your door._

Pant, pant. After a lot of internal debating, I decided to go ahead with Seekers. This is the prologue and the first chapter, with the obligatory bar brawl(kind of a tradition for this series). The title for chapter 2 is "Dorlacen", Chapter 3 "Winters", and so on.

The abnormal length for the opening chapter can't be helped, sorry.

Anyway, I'll be working to update New World Order once I get my hands on the FC Civil War Sourcebook. Word is that it's awesome! Get it!

Oh, and I'll still be working on ATSOS. More or less.

The next chapter of ATSOS should be up within the week, while chapter 2 of Seekers may be a month in progress.

Mech descriptions for some of the mechs used here and in ATSOS have been placed on my website's armory. Check the reviews here for the link.


	2. Dorlacen

_The death of Edward Calderon precipitated a crisis of succession for the Taurian Concordat. One by one the remaining heirs either dropped out of sight or were rendered incapable of ruling. This would have severe repercussions for the nation years later._

_Even the eventual ascension of Grover Shraplen was not without its own flaws. The Taurian citizens were too used to seeing a Calderon as Protector, even when it was one as deficient as Thomas._

_Shraplen's regime had many problems, all of which slowly fanned the flames of civil disobedience among the populace, building up a powder keg liable to explode at any moment._

_The arrival of Ian Calderon in 3068 would be the spark that would send the Taurian Concordat into outright civil war._

_-The Taurian Civil War, _Professor Michael Howard__

_Dropship _Orwell's Regret_,_

_Inbound, Taurus,_

_Taurian Concordat_

_8th August 3068_

A soothing female voice came over the ship comms. "Attention, all passengers, we are now on final approach to Taurus. Please secure all your items and strap yourselves into your seats. We will be landing in five minutes. Local time at the Freedom spaceport is 1100 hrs. We hope you had a pleasant time traveling with Sierra Spacelines."

Ian Dorlacen did as he was instructed, pulling the grav-secure belt clasp over his body, and snapping it into place into the seat receptacle. The pull on their bodies increased as the ship fell into the gravity well of the planet it was approaching, and so it was a safety requirement for all passengers to be securely strapped in for atmospheric re-entry. He saw Daniela Mattlov and Benny Greaves doing the same in the cabin they were staying in.

Their not-so-small cabin, Ian admitted to himself. He was used to the small functional accommodations in military dropships, even as the CO of the Arch Lancers. Their present first class room aboard the _Union_-class dropship, modified for passenger service, was certainly far different from the starkly utilitarian nature of most dropships.

It was slightly bigger than a two person hotel room, with three of the null-G net beds, along with a small fixed table, a wet bar fridge, a large holovids projector, and the mandatory seats for liftoff and landing. There was even a small sponge shower room with hot water! It was truly interstellar travel in style.

Forcing these thoughts out of his mind, Ian looked out a window to the blue planet below them.

_Taurus._

Where he had been born, where he had spent his childhood, where he had countless quarrels with his overbearing, paranoid, sorry excuse for a father. Where he had abandoned his heritage, to become a mercenary amongst the stars.

He had feared he would never find the courage to return to his homeworld.

Ian smiled as he remembered Frank's incredulous look as he had revealed his true name during the ceremony. Frank's hands had been shaking, obviously considering whether to strangle his new elder brother, or to greet him with the respect due to a scion of a Greater Periphery House.

Descartin Winters did not react as vehemently as their youngest brother. In fact, he did not even fully realize the implications of Ian's identity until Frank explained it to him. The clan warrior had been mildly impressed, but Ian had the impression that Des respected his warrior ability more than his heritage, which was usual for a clanner.

What was surprising was the way they had worked together in the few training exercises since the ceremony. Ian was not a superstitious man, but their teamwork had been impeccable. Some inner instinct had guided him during those exercises, telling him how to move in relation to Frank or Des for the best possible effect, which target to shoot at even before one of the others had even called it out, and even which part of the mech to target. The three of them working together had been unbeatable, even when heavily outnumbered.

Ian shook his head. It had been a messy two weeks of reorganizing, recruiting, and renegotiating before all three of them left the planet, coincidentally on the same day.

Frank had been confided to Ian his concern about Ian's true motives for going to Taurus, and Ian had been forced to come clean with his real reasons, which Frank had accepted easily. It was a strong sign of trust by Frank, and Ian had been touched by Frank's loyalty.

Frank had in turn told Ian of his personal reasons for going to New Avalon, which had Ian rolling about in laughter at the time. Ian had also accepted Franks' explanation, and the mutual exchange of trust convinced Ian that he had done the right thing in swearing brotherhood with Frank.

Descartin was another matter. He was still distraught over Deserk's death, but they slowly coaxed him back to life with training runs and briefings at Blackwell Industries on the latest technology. No clanner could resist the lure of war for long, and it was Frank's firm belief that Des would be raring for battle when he returned from his errand to the Draconis Combine.

Whether he was willing to join their unit was another matter, though Ian had already decided that he would support any decision made by the elite mechwarrior. He had recognized in Des a kindred spirit, unwilling to bend to normal conventions, and the urge to wander around the galaxy.

They had uttered heartfelt farewells to one another at the Harlech Interplanetary Dropport, and Ian had been more than a bit sorry to part ways with his newfound brothers.

_My brothers…_ Ian thought. He had many blood brothers, but they were all dead or missing. He had never been on really close terms with any of them, not even Felix with their shared sense of adventure. Instead, it was Janice who understood him best, and always willing to cover up for his mistakes.

Edward was the conscientious one, always willing to serve, willing to lead. His death had been a shock, and Ian remembered that as the breaking point for their father. He had been fully convinced that the bogeymen Davions were behind the accident, and he made no secret of his belief.

Then Janice came down with the Brisbane virus, and Ian had suddenly found himself as the next in line for succession.

Ian had never wanted to rule. He was impatient and reckless in his youth, always seeking a good scrap. His father had despaired of him ever gaining the skills and temperament for ruling an interstellar state, and that had been one of the reasons why Ian had ran away from home to join the Green Mountain Boys.

Felix had been next, and if Ian had thought himself unsuitable for rulership, Felix was even more so. Felix loved to explore, and he would often hop onto the next jumpship slated for a survey mission without permission. Ian was not surprised when he heard Felix had disappeared.

Then it had all boiled down to Jeffrey, their youngest brother. Jeffrey was a pragmatist first and foremost. Ian believed that he would have made an excellent Protector, and Jeffrey had proved his judgment right.

Until Jeffrey was killed on Detroit.

Ian had been in the Chaos March at the time, working for House Liao, and he had received the information as part of an intelligence update. The news had shocked him, and Ian had momentarily wrestled with the thought of returning to Taurus.

In the end, he had not, partly due to his fear of being rejected, but also because Grover Shraplen had stepped in to take over. Ian went on his way in the mercenary world, until fate brought Benny Greaves to him on Einstein.

From what Benny had told him, Grover Shraplen had began a heavy buildup of troops on the Federated Suns border, even pressing civilians into constructing and maintaining the defenses on the border worlds. Even Chancellor Liao had began advising the Protector to cut down on the mobilization, but to no avail.

Grover had certainly made a lot of unpopular decisions. From the agreement to help finance a new fighter factory in Magistracy space to his decision to enter the Star League while the Magistracy would receive the bulk of Capellan aid, each and every one of those moves had been mistakes.

The Taurians were builders and workers. Ian was curious at why the Protector had agreed to provide the funds for building a factory that was not even situated in Taurian space, all for the short term return of two production runs of fighters. In Ian's mind, it would have so much better for them to finance the construction on Taurian worlds, where labor was well trained and plentiful, and the long term income would have been extremely useful.

The nomination for membership in the Star League was even worse. Ian had no real opinion on the merits of that now defunct body, but again, Grover had been seeking the short term advantage.

All too short, for the Star League had dissolved just under a year ago, with the Taurian Concordat being a member for just 3 years, with nothing to show for it. In contrast, the Magistracy of Canopus was enjoying increased production and higher levels of technology, which it had chosen instead of membership in the Star League.

The result of all that was growing resentment towards Shraplen, steadily growing by the day.

Of course, Shraplen might not even have any real motives for his choices at all, but was simply being stupid, a term which Ian was extremely reluctant to label on anybody who had managed to rise to such heights. Then again, the Peter Principle might be in effect.

On Benny's advice, Ian was not returning as a Calderon seeking his birthright, but as a private and wealthy citizen looking for more opportunities to expand his business, which was not far from the truth.

Ian did want to find a company capable to working with the Men in Black, to provide the manpower for manning the manufacturing plants on Einstein. His choice of Taurus was sheer coincidence.

Or so he hoped to convince himself.

Daniela had been very much amused on the trip by the various facilities on the ship. If she had ever needed any first hand evidence of the decadence of the Inner Sphere, _Orwell's Regret _gave her plenty of that.

Ian could not really figure out why she had insisted on tagging along with him, though he definitely did not mind having her by his side. Her courage and fierce intelligence were invaluable assets in any sticky situation. Of course, her sheer beauty did not hurt either.

Trying to keep her identity as a clanner secret had been easier than expected, but she would still tend to slip up at the most inappropriate of times, uttering _quiaffs_ and _quinegs_ and other clan terms when she really shouldn't.

And her apparent disdain for the Periphery, especially the Taurian Concordat due to its role in the fall of the Star League, did not help matters any.

In any case, Ian had a sinking feeling in his stomach that they won't be able to hide their identities as easily on Taurus.

He had gotten close to Daniela, and she did not seem to mind his company. He still did not know how to define their relationship, but he was willing to wait and see, without pushing the issue.

Daniela did not really understand, however, and the one time she asked him for coupling, he could only gargle out a 'no' before running away. Somehow, it felt wrong to him, though he could not place a finger on why he was being so cowardly.

Or maybe he just wasn't ready for another relationship yet, after Karen's death.

The capital city of Samantha could now be seen in the window, its tall buildings gleaming in the light of the system's G3V class sun. The mess of concrete and ferroslab overlooked a vast plain, shining gold with the golden stalks of the wheat and barley farms on the flatland. Two large rivers passed near the city, their blue a beautiful contrast with the gold of the flatlands, and the white of the nearby glacial lake.

A low rumbling sound could be heard from the lower decks of the dropship, as the captain increased his engine thrust to slow their rate of descent to the spaceport. The vibration of the ship could be felt even through the thick cushioning of their seats.

They were scant meters away from the landing pad when the rumbling slowly subsided. Ian could see the control towers of the spaceport, as well as the distinctive shapes of several mechs on patrol and guard duty. He noted their insignia as that of the Taurian Guard.

"All passengers, we have landed at the Freedom spaceport. Again, please enjoy your stay on Taurus."

Ian stood up from his seat, and stretched his muscles, before going to grab their luggage from their cases.

"Welcome home," Ian told himself quietly.

Daniela Mattlov would have preferred to leave the dropship in the cockpit of her _Warhawk_, but Ian had insisted on keeping the mechs covered in their tarps, and that they are to maintain their guise as rich civilian businessmen.

She did not know if she should treat his instructions as an insult.

She was sure that Ian and Benny were hiding something from her, but she was unable to wean anything out from her commander or the short of stature but efficient Benny.

They were disembarking from the dropship through a long corridor lock instead of going outside the dropship to several waiting vehicles, which was the normal procedure on most planets. Daniela could not help but be impressed by the horizontal elevator now transporting them to the immigration counter. Such amenities would not be possible in the clans, because they would doubtless be considered wasteful.

Daniela looked at her luggage case, containing her sizable collection of civilian clothes, which Ian had insisted she wear instead of the combat jumpsuits she had worn since she was decanted from an iron womb. She had put up with dresses and skirts, tubes and spaghetti straps throughout the entire journey, foisted on her by Benny and Ian. If it had been up to her, she would have stuck with the plain jumpsuits.

She was currently wearing a blue blouse with a white skirt, setting off her shapely hips and her long legs. She was more than aware of her attractiveness to both men and women, and she suspected that it was only the constant close proximity of Ian that prevented a lot of the eligible men on the dropship from speaking to her. Spheroids were so strange in this regard. She did not remember Ian slapping a "Hands off!" sign on her.

On the other hand, she was beginning to wish that he had. Ian had been extremely polite to her, more than was required for a warrior to his bondwoman, to the extent she thought she could qualify as the most well treated bondman in history.

Nevertheless, Ian was always slightly… twitchy around her, as though he was constantly struggling to say something to her other than their regular discussions about clan life, politics, combat tactics, and the relative merits or demerits of various mechs.

For her part, Daniela was getting more than a bit frustrated at her lack of sexual activity, which was a staple of life for most clan warriors when they were not engaged in combat and had no other way to work off their energy. It had been, she estimated, at least 6 months since she had coupled with anybody, and she beginning to think she might have to resort to a long stick for her needs.

Asking any male on the ship was out of the question, since none of them were clan, few of them were warriors, and were likely to take matters the wrong way. To her disgust, she had even asked Benny, but the mechwarrior had been terrified by the very question itself. She had tried Ian, but he had simply blushed a bright red, mumbled several incoherent words in reply, and slinked off as fast as his legs could carry him, leaving her all the more aggravated.

It was made worse when she considered the role she was supposed to be playing, that of a rich businessman's girlfriend. Apparently, that role did not extend to the bedroom.

Still, she had come to know Ian quite well, and she now regarded him as a true friend instead of just the elite enemy warrior that she had first met and fought on Einstein.

Daniela glanced sideways at Ian, who looked every bit the part of the rich merchant. He wore a blue jacket over a white colored shirt, and dark blue pants, complementing her own attire. Benny was dressed completely in black, as befits his role as a bodyguard, albeit a small sized one.

Ian had a tight expression on his face, and seemed to be getting tenser the closer they got to the security counter.

"Relax, boss. Our passes are perfectly legit." Benny said they stepped off the horizontal elevator, pushing a large trolley with their luggage.

"Maybe Ian is worried about our mechs." Daniela guessed. They had brought their mechs along on the dropship, explaining it away as private property. Ian's modified _Awesome_, Daniela's _Warhawk_, and Benny's _Dire Wolf_ sat in the cargo bay of the dropship, which had been one of the few capable of transporting both passengers and mechs, although it was at high cost.

"Yeah, I am worried about our mechs, but that's about the least of our worries." Ian said as they entered the queue for immigration and security.

"Then what are you worried about?" Daniela asked. "We are not wearing any weapons, so I can hardly see how there could be any trouble with security."

Ian shook his head. "It's a bit hard to explain…"

Benny cut in, "Boss, it's been a long time. Nobody will recognize you."

_Hmmm… what did that mean? _Daniela thought. "Benny, what do you mean by that?"

Ian and Benny exchanged glances before Ian spoke first. "I grew up on this world." And he left it at that.

Somehow, Daniela was sure that there was more to that than either man was willing to tell her, so she held her peace, and opted for observing the people and facilities around her.

She was quite surprised at her first real look at a Periphery world, even one as developed as Taurus. The freebirths were well dressed, and even if the equipment and technology in the spaceport looked a bit out of date, their cleanliness lent them an air of newness and sophistication.

Several air curtain doors with counters at every door separated them from the arrival hall. They passed through the checkpoints with ease, the spaceport personnel hardly giving them a second look as they stamped their passes and sent them on their ay to the next counter.

Daniela could hear Ian's sigh of relief as they passed through the final checkpoint and into the arrival hall.

"Where to next?" She asked.

"We get transportation." Benny replied as he walked over to a car rental counter. He walked away moments later with a set of keys.

"I arranged for this when we jumped insystem at the nadir point." Ian explained. "Lead the way, Benny."

They were soon in an open air hovercar moving on the wide streets from the spaceport, the cool air blowing in their faces.

"It's great to travel in style!" Benny whooped in joy as he barreled down the highway towards the outskirts of Samantha. Ian sat quietly in the shotgun seat, staring at the scenery.

  
"Where are we going?" Daniela asked over the wind rushing over them. "Shouldn't we go to the city to look for accommodation?"

"Nope, that has already been taken care of. Right, Ian?"

"Hmm?" A distracted Ian replied, before he recovered. "Uh yes. We already have lodgings available."

"I would very much appreciate it if you tell me first, _sir_." Daniela grumbled. She felt more than a bit naked traveling without her mech nearby.

Their mechs were currently being processed by the spaceport security, and Ian had already assured her that the deadly war machines would be transported safely to a warehouse near the city as soon as possible.

Barely an hour had passed when the hovercar slowed down as it neared a large estate. A large mansion stood amidst a field of tall trees, which in turn slowly gave way to abundant farmland. An arch hung over the road leading to the mansion, engraved with an ancient heraldic sign.

Benny slowly steered the car into the front porch of the mansion, and Daniela could see several red clad servants hurrying out from the doors of the large building. A fountain decorated the front porch, and Benny circled it to the door where the entourage of servants awaited them.

Standing in front of them was a average looking man with gray hair and a beard. He wore a pair of metal spectacles, lending him an aristocratic air.

Benny stopped in front of the man.

The man bowed as Ian stepped out of the car. "Welcome, Ian Calderon, to my humble abode. I am Baron David Clayton."

_What the… _Daniela, who was leaving the hovercar herself, stopped in mid action as soon as she heard the words. She looked at Ian, who was walking towards the Baron. Ian shook the man's hand.

"Thank you, Baron Clayton," Ian said, "I trust nobody else knows of this meeting?"

"Nobody else knows, sire," the Baron confirmed as he released the handshake. "The others are waiting for you upstairs. Captain Greaves can leave the hovercar and your luggage to my servants. Please, all of you," he gestured to Ian, Daniela and Benny, "follow me."

Daniela stared hard at Ian as they followed the Baron into the mansion. Ian wore a grim expression, as though he was going to attend an execution. She did not understand why, but she did realize now who Ian was.

Her studies of the Taurian Concordat while they were in transit had told her of the problems with succession in the Periphery state. Ian had been mentioned as the name of one of the heirs to the Protectorship, and Daniela wanted to hit herself for missing such an obvious clue.

If anything, she was feeling more confused than ever. If Ian was a Calderon, one of those corrupt and greedy member of the houses which had led the Star League to ruin, then what about her first hand experience of his bravery and skill? And why did he even run away from his home in the first place to be mercenary?

Why did he choose to return now, of all times?

And what did that portend for their relationship, as nebulous as it was?

They were quickly shown to a large room. Baron Clayton opened the door, and they walked in.

Ian could feel Daniela's eyes boring into his back as he entered the room. There were about ten people in it, but the one who came to his attention immediately was the aging woman in a wheelchair.

He could not hold back the tears in his eyes any longer as he stumbled as if in a dream towards his sister.

Janice Calderon raised her head with visible effort, and her smile, though weak, was filled with warmth and love for her younger brother.

Ian knelt in front of her wheelchair, his tears now flowing uninhibited from his eyes, his strong hands clasping the atrophied ones of his sister. He could barely control the emotions in his voice as he whispered, "Janice, I'm home."

How about that?!? The next chapter will be on Frank Meronac, as he and Lorik make their way to New Avalon. The present situation in the Federated Suns will be explained in that chapter.

Check out my website for some armory updates, as well as a short briefing on the current situation of the main players in the Inner Sphere.

For those who want action, and lots of it, I'm afraid I will have to disappoint you. There will be about 6 chapters of buildup before we get the first battle.


	3. Meronac

_The Federated Commonwealth Civil War had wrecked New Avalon, untouched by war for so many centuries._

_Its industry, once the equivalent of any five worlds, was in ruins. Its farmlands, once verdant and bountiful, were churned swamps by the massed movement of battlemech regiments. Its cities, once standing proud against the sky, smashed into rubble._

_Even a year after Katrina's surrender, the signs of conflict were still very much in evidence when I returned._

_-The Word of Blake Contagion, _Frank Meronac

_Lucien Davion Starport,_

_Avalon City, New Avalon,_

_Crucis March, Federated Suns_

_9th August 3068_

"Where the heck is the transport truck? Or do we have to drag our stuff all the way to the immigration counter?" Frank Meronac yelled at the spaceport attendant who had just lowered one of the dropship ramps.

"Sorry, sir, we're short on manpower, so you'll have to bring all your stuff yourself to the arrival building." The woman said in a rehearsed voice and shrugged at the same time, like she was used to such complaints. Obviously, Frank was not the only one who was surprised at the lack of service.

Frank looked up in dismay at the arrival hall building, more than 800 meters away. He sighed heavily in resignation before grabbing up his wheeled suitcase and a large luggage bag. At least he did not have to carry the really heavy stuff.

Lorik walked up beside him, one of his massive arms wrapped around another big rucksack. The other arm dragged along a hefty plastic crate with wheels. The giant physicist did not seem hindered by his load.

"Ah, Frank, having some problem with your luggage?" The elemental smiled with a familiar glint in his eyes.

Frank rolled his eyes as he knew what was coming. "Oh please, spare me another one of your training day stories." The trip to New Avalon with Lorik had either been one vociferous scientific argument after another, spiced up by occasional anecdotes from Lorik's days as an elemental warrior trainee, or long sessions in the small gaming/practice arcade the dropship operators had setup in a cargo bay.

It had been interesting, to say the least.

Lorik plowed on nevertheless. "Back in the training facility, we had to carry large sandbags on our backs, as well as one over each shoulder. That was really heavy!" The two walked on slowly to the arrival building.

They made a contrasting pair, the two scientists, to the rest of the passengers leaving the dropship. Frank was a bit worried about Lorik's status as a clansman in the heart of the Federated Suns.

_Never mind, it's all for the sake of scientific advancement, right? _He told himself. _Besides, it's not as if MIIO can grab him in the middle of the night and interrogate him. It's a good thing Katrina Steiner's no longer in charge._

On the other hand, Frank was still dubious about Yvonne Davion's regency. He could not forget that it was Yvonne who had given away the Federated Suns to Katrina, and even his personal acquaintance with her in the NAIS could not remove the pain of the civil war for which she was also partly responsible.

The scars of the civil war were evident from the laser scorch marks on some of the buildings, and the pock marks on the tarmac of the dropship landing pads. The ugliness of war stood in contrast to the beautiful blue sky, causing Frank to recall some of his terrible memories of the final campaign on New Avalon.

When they finally reached the security and immigration counters, the spaceport officers there had to take several long looks at Lorik and his load before they allowed him to pass. 2.5 meter tall giants were not exactly common in the Inner Sphere.

Frank was sure, however, that those same officers would have sent a special signal to the local MIIO station at the spaceport to keep tabs on Lorik and his cargo. In fact, he was counting on it.

"Are we going straight to your fabled NAIS?" Lorik asked as they trudged out the last gate to the large arrival hall. The hall was poorly lit, with throngs of people walking around. The spaceport was one of the busiest in the Federated Suns, with a dropship lifting off every two hours with agricultural products, military supplies, or landing with raw material for the factories on world.

"No. I arranged for a friend to pick us up first." Frank said as he turned his head, looking around the hall. "He should be here now."

"Of course I'm here!" A loud voice barked out from behind them. "How could I miss my best friend coming back to New Avalon after making his fortune as a merc!"

Frank spun around to greet a black man in the uniform of the Federated Suns with a comradely hug and a wide grin on his face.

Frank disengaged from the hug, and introduced his friends to each other. "Eddie, this is Scientist Lorik, of Clan Goliath Scorpion."

Eddie stared at the elemental for a second, before shaking the giant's hand. "Holy shit, you weren't joking when you said you'll be bringing a clanner along."

"Yeah, and Lorik, this is Captain Eddie Tyler of the AFFS, and one of the best mech jocks on New Avalon."

The black man coughed lightly. "Ahem, I'm no longer a captain."

Frank arched an eyebrow. "Got demoted again?"

Eddie laughed. "No! I just got bumped up to Major, and I also got transferred to the 1st Davion Guards," he said smugly.

"Woah, congratulations, Eddie!" Frank was impressed, and slapped Eddie on his back. A mechwarrior officer in the AFFC could expect to reach his majority only after about 12 years of good service, while Eddie had only graduated just before the Civil War, and thus served only 6 years so far. And the 1st Davion Guards was a plum assignment for any young aspiring officer, even if they were still rebuilding after their decimation at the very start of the civil war.

Of course, Frank tried not to dwell on the fact that it was most probably due to the age old tradition of officers stepping into the shoes of dead men that allowed Eddie to reach his current post so quickly.

"Where's Clarice? You know, I half expected her to be here." Frank asked, looking around some more.

Eddie shrugged. "Sorry, she wanted to come along, but they needed her at the hospital. I think she and Sophia will be just finished with their work at the NAIS when we get there."

Sophia Langford was another classmate of Frank's, and Eddie's current squeeze, according to Clarice's letters to him over the last few months.

"So we _are_ going to the NAIS, quiaff?" Lorik shifted the load on his shoulder, and for a moment Frank was afraid the elemental would drop the sack on him.

"Err, aff," Eddie started to walk towards one of the huge exits. "You know, Frank, you never told me why you really came back, and with a clanner with you besides."

"Sorry, Eddie," Frank shook his head and smiled thinly, "can't tell you."

"Wouldn't it have to do with some hullabaloo tech find over in the Periphery a few months ago, would it?" Eddie looked closely at Frank for a reaction, and evidently found it. "Gotcha, buddy. You did have something to do with it, right?"

"Well," Frank winked, "I could tell you, but then Lorik here would have to snap your neck. Or I could stomp on you with my ride."

"Oh yeah, like you would really do that." A thought suddenly seemed to occur to Eddie. "Hey, did that mean you actually learnt to jockey a mech?"

Frank could not hold in his grin. His cutting edge _Night Gyr _was actually sitting within one of the mech bays of the dropship, and he intended it to be a nasty surprise for Eddie when the time was right. Preferably during a mech training run session.

"Yeah, I did. A lot of it was on the job. It was pretty tough." That was an understatement, considering that he fought against either highly skilled clan warriors or overwhelming numbers of combat drones during that brutal campaign on Einstein. He shuddered at the memory.

"You gotta tell me what went on out there." Eddie led them to a nondescript black car. "And then maybe I'll take you out to one of our training grounds." Eddie laughed as he opened the boot of the car. "I want to see how good you are."

"Definitely not as good as you, Eddie." Frank was being perfectly honest. Eddie had more than twenty kills to his name with the 2nd Davion Guards during the vicious civil war, on Sirdar, Salem, and the final bloodbath on New Avalon.

Eddie snorted. "You sure? If it wasn't for your 'Hail Mary' attack on Sirdar when we were on the ropes, we might not have made it here at all."

Frank dismissed that thought with a wave of his hand. "Pure, utter luck. The Armored Cavalry would have taken the world regardless." He dumped his load into the boot with visible effort. "Sometimes, I still have nightmares about the men I killed."

Eddie nodded as he got into the driver's seat. "I know. It wasn't easy at all, no matter how much any of us tried to pretend it was. There are still times when a trooper would just walk up and spit in front of me, just because I fought for the Prince."

"When will the scars leave us?" Frank wondered.

"I dunno. How long did it take for Alexander Davion to truly unite his people?"

"A long time, I guess. And he needed a long period of relative calm to do that."

"Which we have now. The Star League may be gone, god knows it was all a ruse anyway, but I think everybody's sick of war now."

Frank thought of the letter in the locker on Outreach, Jaime Wolf's unease, and the mercs' discovery of terrible forces lying beyond the depths of space. He decided not to say anything.

"Get in, guys." Eddie started the engine of the car as Lorik managed to squeeze in the last of their gear into the boot. "Next stop, NAIS!"

They had some trouble pushing Lorik into the vehicle, but eventually the big man lounged in the back seats while Frank sat shotgun. Frank knew they were a funny sight as they rumbled out of the space port's car park, the car having a bit of a problem with the giant in the backseat and the baggage in the boot.

The spaceport was sited just outside the city, but the New Avalon Institute of Science was 30 kilometers south of it, accessible on the ground only by underground subways. And with heavily armed checkpoints with enough firepower to take out an _Atlas_.

"I hope you guys have your passes ready." Eddie said as the car chugged down the highway. "Them security types are getting a bit antsy recently, with Prince Victor back and all."

"Prince Victor is back?" Frank, like almost everyone else who had heard the Prince's last speech before he left New Avalon, had thought the former ruler would never be returning to the capital world of the Federated Suns. "Wasn't he supposed to be on Tukayyid commanding the Com Guards?"

The end of the Civil War had heralded the end of the Federated Commonwealth. Victor Davion had gone back to his prewar role of guarding the Inner Sphere as Comstar Precentor Martial, leaving the Federated Suns to his sister Yvonne Davion and the Lyran Commonwealth to his brother Peter Steiner, who had emerged from his self-imposed exile on Zaniah to retake Tharkad. Katrina Steiner, by all accounts, had been whisked away by Khan Vladimir Ward of Clan Wolf.

Eddie was saying, "Well, Princess-Regent Yvonne Davion and Duke Tancred Sandoval are getting married just next week, so of course they had invite the family of the bride over. The Archon was unable to come because he says he's still too busy, but apparently Victor didn't have the same problem. He's staying over at the NAIS, because he did not want any problems from staying at the Royal Palace."

"I see." Frank pursed his lips. "So are people getting anxious?"

"Not that I can see. Still, you never know."

"You people are sure strange." Lorik spoke up. "Skilled warriors like Victor Davion should be praised and raised to positions of higher responsibility, yet all I hear since arriving in the Inner Sphere was one complaint after another about how poor he was as a ruler."

"Uh, Lorik, we all say that because it's true." Frank was not blind to the former Prince's faults, for all of Davion's success as a military commander.

Eddie explained, "In the clans, you guys settle who's the top dog by conflict, but we work differently over here. What makes a warrior successful in battle doesn't always apply to other areas."

"I think I understand. Because of your different social conventions, what works for us does not work for you."

"Yup." The two Inner Sphere freebirths answered.

"So, Frank, how are we going to explain my presence to the guards?"

"Simple. We tell them the truth." Frank smiled. "All in the name of progress. Doc Banzai managed to get me a verigraph just after the war which would give me access to most unrestricted areas of the NAIS. I could also use that verigraph to get you in. It's not as if we're going to sneak around stealing state secrets, eh?"

"No." Lorik said slowly. "We are just going to walk in and announce that whoever wants to learn advanced technology can follow us to Einstein."

Frank winced at Lorik's choice of words. "Do we sound like loons?"

"Most importantly, Frank, do you guys have evidence?" Eddie turned the car around a bend. "I know you're pretty respected at the NAIS, Frank, but talk's not going to do much."

"Don't worry, we have some stuff with us." Frank pointed his thumb towards the loaded boot of the car. "Why do you think we're carrying so much baggage?"

"Ah, Clarice, it'll be good to see Frank again, wouldn't it?" The white haired man beside Clarice Ferguson mused. He wore a typical lab coat over a standard jumpsuit, which in turn covered a body scarred by countless battles.

"Yes, definitely, Doctor Banzai." Clarice smiled. Doctor Buckaroo Banzai was a living legend in the NAIS, and much beloved by the students and alumni. The chance to work under him was often highly sought, and fought over, by undergraduates, since it often led to plum assignments after academic life.

"In fact, I think it might be them now." The doctor said as they stared out from the reception area of the research hospital at the car now approaching the front porch. His keen eyes missed very little, and were as alert as they had been in his youth.

Clarice could barely hide her excitement at seeing Frank again after their separation of more than a year. It had been a forced separation, since her father had Frank literally held at gun point before he was taken away by her father's bodyguards. At least he didn't have Frank beaten up.

And it was a good thing her father was not around, though she was sure his spies were.

Clarice sighed. Her father had no real business poking into her personal life like that, and poor Frank had been forced to leave his well paying job with a local pharmaceutical company to go to Outreach to learn to be a mechwarrior, since he had determined that the fastest way to nobility was through battlefield glory.

Clarice thought it was a miracle that he wasn't killed in his first assignment. When he sent word that he was heading out to the Periphery, she had almost fainted on the spot. The Periphery was not exactly known as a safe place for anyone to ply their trade, mechs or no mechs.

Since his return to the Inner Sphere, and the relatively more civilized environs of Outreach, Mercenary Star though it was, she had calmed down a lot more. But Clarice could never forget the moment when she had received word that he had been badly injured on Sirdar during the civil war back in late May 3063. She had been both worried about his condition, and furious that he had virtually volunteered for a suicide mission.

If she could, she would tie him up and never let him go again.

But she also knew Frank was never the domestic type. He had a stubborn streak of idealism that often pulled him towards action and adventure, which was also why he had agreed to the billet with the 2nd Davion Guards in the first place, and later to be a mercenary. It was also part of the reason why she loved him so much, why she could never pin him in any one place for long.

Clarice knew she was certainly attractive, with no shortage of admirers among the male population. She had shoulder length reddish-brown hair, set around an oval face. According to many of her friends, her blue eyes radiated intelligence and compassion in equal amounts.

She had been approached many times by other men during the last few years, but she had remained faithful to Frank throughout. They shared the dream of going to some secluded planet where they could both practice medicine in peace.

Frank's last transmission to her had carried hints of the remarkable discoveries the mercenaries had made in the Periphery, as well as his instructions to have Doctor Banzai present when he returned.

The car stopped in the porch as Clarice and Doctor Banzai walked out of the lobby, but Clarice had only eyes for the man sitting beside Eddie.

Even before the car had stopped, Frank had jumped out of the car and ran towards her. The two lovers took each other into a tight embrace. Their mouths met in a kiss.

Then she discovered he had tears in his eyes. Their lips parted. He moved his face beside hers.

"I thought I was never coming back," Frank whispered into her ear as he held her tight, "god, I thought I wasn't going to make it."

_What exactly happened out there?_ Clarice was worried for Frank, but she continued embracing him, trying to channel her own warmth and strength into his trembling body.

"Ahem," a cloud suddenly seemed to block out the sun as it floated over them. "Frank, could you please introduce me to your friends?"

Clarice stared up in amazement at the big, no, humongous man staring down at them. A pair of spectacles hung incongruously above his nose, while his bald head seemed to shimmer in the sunlight.

They broke their embrace. Frank coughed once, probably to compose himself, then said, "Uh, Lorik, this lady here is Clarice Ferguson, my fiancée. And this man in the white coat, he gestured to Doc Banzai with a wave of his hand, "is Doctor B. Banzai, founder of Team Banzai, and the man largely responsible for deciphering the Star League memory core. Doc, Clarice, this is Scientist Lorik, of Clan Goliath Scorpion."

Frank waited as Doc Banzai and Clarice shook hands with the huge man. Clarice saw her hand swallowed up in Lorik's huge fist. She shuddered inwardly as she realized Lorik could break her in half with zero effort.

"Frank, you're looking good." Doc Banzai looked over Frank appraisingly. "You also seemed to have bulked up a bit."

Clarice looked at Frank more carefully, and she saw that he _was_ different from the last time she saw him. He was more muscular, and there were a few faint scars on his arms. His eyes were harder and sadder than they were before. But there also lurked behind them a strange fire that was never there before. She shivered as she realized that he looked a bit like one of those burnt out warriors after the civil war.

"Doc," Frank told Doc Banzai excitedly, "you're not going to believe what we found out there. There's a great deal of advanced technology that will benefit mankind."

"But there's a catch, is there?" Doc Banzai said with a tight grin. "Oh, MIIO came to me last month about your profile, since they wanted to try to get a handle on how to get you to divulge all the tech your new merc unit found in the Periphery. Without the Fed Suns spending too much money."

Frank's face fell. "You knew about that already? Damn."

"I can even guess at why you came here!" Banzai started walking back to the lobby. "You want me and Team Banzai to leave the NAIS and go to your little fiefdom, right?"

Frank held up his hands in surrender, "Okay, okay, looks like I can't really hide anything from you. Yeah, I was really hoping to get you over to our side to do research. After all, we don't have enough scientists, while the NAIS is a bit stingy on funds after the war. I thought you would be jumping at the chance to come over."

"And who said I wouldn't be?" Frank did a double take at Banzai's words. The mercurial and brilliant scientist was as eccentric and unpredictable as ever. Clarice smiled at Frank's confusion.

"But I thought…"

"Come on in! Bring all the stuff you brought here along too! I can see Major Tyler's poor car sagging under their weight!"

Precentor Martial Victor Steiner-Davion stared out the window of his room at the NAIS. He had been of two minds to come back to New Avalon for Yvonne's wedding to Tancred, but it was Isis who had convinced him to go back to New Avalon while she traveled to Luthien to inquire about his child.

_My child…_ Victor did not know how to react to that news, coming as it was on the heels of Khan Vladimir Ward's demand for Katherine, his treacherous sister. Then had come the bombshell announcement at the Star League conference in November.

The Star League would be dissolved, as the various House Lords had finally given up on making it work. All of them were reluctant to let the dream go, but the hard facts had offered them no other choice. Conflict after conflict, exploitation by one first Lord after another, had disillusioned everybody.

The fact that it had been formed in the first place to counter the clans no longer mattered, nor did the fact that its dissolution might free the clans from the results of the Great Refusal.

Politics was ever his bane, and Victor knew it. It was politics which had robbed him of his mother, his brother Arthur, and his nation. And now it had robbed humanity of its crowning achievement.

Thomas Marik had been sadder than most when the inevitable happened, and he had made a heartfelt speech during the closing ceremony, that he hoped that even without a Star League, humanity would be able to coexist in peace.

Of course, that did not prevent Thomas from ordering Isis to stay away from Victor at the conference, and disallowing Isis from seeing Victor again without his permission.

Victor smiled humorlessly as he remembered Thomas' warning about taking advantage of Isis. They had been growing closer since Omi's death, but Victor could still feel Omi's shadow over their relationship. Not to mention the fact that Thomas Marik was an imposter.

Victor had struggled with himself when they had parted. For a moment, he had been tempted to blurb out Marik's secret, just to keep Isis with him. But then he had remembered the likely result, that of renewed war in the Free Worlds League, and so he had kept his peace.

Even if she could not stay with him, Isis had agreed to help him by going to the Draconis Combine to look for Omi's child, who should be about 10 years old now. Theodore and Hohiro had been extremely close lipped about it, since Omi's death still hurt. But they had agreed to let Isis travel with them.

There was no way he could go to the Draconis Combine personally. The assault by the Draconis March on the Combine during the civil war still rankled with the population, and a resurgence in the popularity of the Black Dragon society meant that his safety could not be assured. Theodore was having his own problems domestically, and Victor knew it would take every bit of his friends' acumen to regain their nation's trust.

So he had come here to New Avalon, where the scars of the war were still fresh. He spent his time giving guest lectures to the cadets at the NAIS, or training in the simulators with the cadets and the rebuilding Royal Brigade of Guards. He kept himself abreast of the reports now streaming in on the movements of the Word of Blake, which seemed to be building up to something ominous for the future.

Then Victor saw Doctor Banzai waiting with a female at the porch of the hospital entrance. It took him a while to recognize the woman as Clarice Ferguson, the daughter of Duke Ferguson, the ruler of Lackland. Duke Ferguson had been one of his supporters during the civil war, but Victor knew a lot of that was due to the Duke's embezzlement of funds, and the pardon that he had promised to nobles who had opposed Katherine.

A black car slowly pulled into the porch, and Victor watched as a man flung himself at the Duke's daughter. He felt a deep pang of pain as he watched the obvious pair of lovers embrace each other.

Then Victor was taken aback as he saw an _elemental _leave the car, followed by Major Eddie Tyler of the 1st Davion Guards.

_What the… _Victor did not know what was going on, but he intended to find out. He walked over to his room communicator, picked up the handset, and keyed in several numbers. He waited for the Royal Consort to pick up the phone.

"Tancred? This is Victor. I know you're busy, but I just saw something very strange…"

Yet another chapter! And for the very first time, my take on a canon character, the one and only Victor Steiner-Davion aka Cockroach Man, because he lives through having swords poked through his chest, gauss slugs taking off the cockpit of his mech with him inside, and he even converses with dead souls!

Okay, okay, I'll simmer down with the baiting. Anyway, because of new information from the FedCom Civil War sourcebook, I also had to rewrite Frank's first experience in combat as mentioned in New World Order. It no longer took place on Bromhead, where the Guards did not fight with the Katrina loyalists, but on Sirdar, where a paragraph specifically mentioned that a bout of bad weather placed the 2nd Davion Guards, 4th and 21st Illician lancers on the defensive against the Sirdar CMM, 4th Donegal Guards, and 2nd Chisholm Raiders. Frank's desperate action saved the Allied regiments from being overrun by pro-Katherine units, delaying them long enough for the weather to break and for reinforcements to arrive.

Nice of them to use my idea of bad weather to hit the 2nd Davion Guards.;)

Please review? This poor writer needs sops to his ego to continue writing!


	4. Winters

_One very interesting fact stood out to me while I was reviewing Descartin's records. I didn't really notice it until a discussion of the best mechwarriors in known space came up among the mechjocks in the MIB. Obviously, I argued for Descartin as the best, but I also decided to look for the records of all the frontrunners to back up my claim._

_Surprisingly, it turned out that Descartin had his testing at practically the same time as Phelan Kell and Kai Allard-Liao. Of course, these two warriors needed no introduction, having long made their mark on the course of history._

_It has to be said that who these two warriors were helped them. If they weren't of noble status, could they have made the same impact? Descartin, being only a 'simple' clan mechwarrior, would find opportunity after opportunity passing him by in his years wandering the clans. Certainly events conspired to prevent him from influencing the outcomes on Luthien and Tukayyid._

_But what an impact he made in 3068. Unbelievable. Just freaking unbelievable._

_-The Word of Blake Contagion, _Frank Meronac

_Takashi Kurita Memorial Spaceport_

_Imperial City, Luthien_

_Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine_

_9th August 3068_

Yoshino Ihara, even after all his years of wandering the worlds of the clans and the Inner Sphere, forgot one cardinal rule when stepping off the dropship.

Do not ever, ever, take a deep breath. Just a week of breathing ship processed air would sensitize the nose to the various icky chemicals and pollutants on virtually all planets.

On a world like Luthien, known throughout the human sphere for being the Black Pearl of the Combine due to its heavily polluted environs, doing exactly that was akin to suicide.

Yoshino, excited to be on Luthien for the second time in his life, did just that.

His eyes bulged out as he realized his boneheaded move once the stench penetrated to his nerve receptors. Yoshino let out a strangled gasp, and his hands flew to his throat in a futile effort to relieve his shocked throat muscles, cramped up from his sudden seizure.

He looked around frantically as he tried to both breathe and release the foul air from his lungs at the same time. Then he felt a sudden thump on his back, driving out all the air from his lungs. He fell to his knees as he sucked in air through his mouth, not his nose, which also prevented him from getting the smell through his pain wracked smell receptors.

After about ten seconds, Yoshino looked up and behind, to see, not surprisingly, a dour looking Descartin Winters with his arms folded across his chest. The taller clan mechwarrior seemed exasperated at even this latest delay.

Yoshino couldn't quite understand what was driving Descartin, ever since they had left Outreach. It had been one dreary transit after another, handed from one jumpship to the next as they traveled deeper into the Draconis Combine.

Descartin had been as tense as a wound up spring ever since they had left Outreach. Thankfully, he had been a lot more stable since he had met Deserk's wife, which had assuaged some of his guilt at not being able to keep his sibkin alive.

Descartin had been very quiet throughout the journey, seldom getting out from his room for meals. Most of the time, they had to bring meals to his room. Yoshino knew Descartin was trying his hardest to forget the events of the past few months by immersing himself in his Great Work, but he also knew it wasn't working very well.

Yoshino knew their stated purpose was to bring the giftake of the Nova Cat abtakha who had died in Dragoon service back to Irece, the new capital world of the clan after their Abjuration from the clans. But he also knew there was another reason, and it was for this other reason that they had arrived at Luthien.

Yoshino had only been to Luthien once before, and that was when he was eight years old, accompanying his parents on a vacation. For a moment, he thought back fondly on those carefree days of discovery and adventure.

"Can we get going now?" Descartin asked as he hefted the luggage he had dropped in order to help Yoshino recover from the deadly 'first breath'. Descartin wore the traditional attire of a Goliath Scorpion Seeker over his tall frame, a dark brown caftan-like tunic which spread across his arms and legs, along with a black vest with the emblem of the clan over his torso. He lacked only the hooded headgear, which exposed his light brown hair and pale green eyes. All these definitely made him stand out in the crowd of short Japanese with their dark hair and black eyes, wearing business suits and traditional Japanese clothing.

"Sure, sure." Yoshino knew Descartin well after their many years together, and he was able to judge the warrior's moods well.

Right now, Descartin was feeling antsy. _Why? _Yoshino asked himself. The answer came to him almost immediately. _Because the last time he was on this world, he was trying to conquer _it_._

Yoshino got and started to walk. "Let us get moving then. But we need to find some transportation, and a place to stay. Let me talk to the locals. Some of them might know something helpful."

The group walked down the dropship ramp, entering the spaceport terminal. Hordes of civilians were milling around, some of them laborers hauling goods, others selling goods just outside the dropship pads, and also inside the terminal.

Yoshino uttered a short prayer to Buddha for the ISF to ignore them. Although they were hardly a threat to the Combine, he knew the most feared secret police in the Inner Sphere did not care for such niceties. The last thing he wanted was trouble.

And he saw trouble on just about his very first sight of the terminal interior.

A DCMS soldier laid flat on his back on the floor, surrounded by interested onlookers as a distressed woman clutched her purse in an overhead position. It was apparent to anybody that the soldier had been hammered by the same purse.

"Get away from me, _hentai_!" The woman screamed, then ran away in tears.

The man stumbled onto his knees, his arms wide out in a gesture of supplication, "Come back, my beauty!" It was a move worthy of inclusion in a stage performance, if not for the blood flowing down the man's nose, spoiling what would have been a handsome face.

Yoshino winced. He knew the soldier. Obviously, the man had not changed, not even after 15 years.

Ignoring the bemused looks of the others, Yoshino ran up to the soldier. Without waiting for the man to recover, Yoshino dragged him to his feet, whipped him around, and then shouted into the man's face, "Return me my 500 C-Bills, you _baka_!"

_Tai-i_ Ryo Saeba of the 2nd Legion of Vega flashed his typically lazy smile at Yoshino. "And who might you be to demand such from an honorable officer of the DCMS?"

"Don't recognize me?" Yoshino grinned mirthlessly. "How about that kendo match back at Sun-Zhang when I whacked you silly?"

Amazement appeared in Ryo's eyes as he took in the man in front of him. He grasped disbelieving at Yoshino with both hands, clutching his arms.

"Yoshino Ihara? You're alive?" He exclaimed in delight. "I can't believe it!"

Yoshino wanted to laugh, but he kept the semi-stern expression on his face, a close mimicry of their sensei's look whenever Ryo went off on one of his outrageous female underwear stealing escapades.

He frowned, "Forget about all that! Where're my 500 C-Bills?" He moved quickly, getting Ryo into a headlock under one arm.

Only for the taller DCMS mechwarrior to duck and spin away, then going into a fighting stance, his hands raised, "I said I'd pay you back! You don't have to get violent about it!" Ryo said.

Descartin walked up. "What is going on?" The clanner asked.

Yoshino finally allowed himself to crack a smile. "Ryo Saeba, meet Star Captain Descartin Winters. If you can't give me back my money, you might as well do us a favor."

"So you guys are here to see _Tai-Sho_ Narimasa Asano." Ryo stated. "Not considering the trifling details in getting past his security detail, and avoiding the questions of the ISF, there's very little I can do to help you."

They were sitting in a teahouse near the spaceport, sipping at their drinks. They were still waiting for the customs officers to grant them a berth for the _Nobori-Nin_ they had brought along. While Descartin would have been perfectly in his rights to claim the mech, he had not done so, and so it still belonged to Yoshino.

Meanwhile, they discussed their options. Yoshino watched Ryo warily. The _hentai_ peered at Tina every few seconds, and he was sure what his friend was thinking of. He tried not to think about it too much. Anyway, Tina, as an adult, and one born in the clans, would know how to handle Ryo. It wasn't really his problem.

"You have contacts, Ryo. It shouldn't be too difficult." Yoshino took a long look around him. The apparent prosperity of the current Combine was not lost on him as he took in the advanced air conditioning units, the clean sidewalks, and the high quality mix of synthetic and wood furniture in the teahouse.

"The simple fact is that the _Tai-Sho_ isn't around on Luthien at all," Ryo said, "He left just two days ago for an inspection of the Ghost Bear border, and he won't be back for several weeks."

Yoshino shook his head. "Perhaps you can find out for us where he is going, and we can try to catch up."

"No need." Descartin cut in. "Chasing him might actually cost us more time and money. We do not exactly have unlimited funds, Yoshino."

"So what now?" Yoshino asked.

"We stay on Luthien until Asano returns." Descartin stated as though it was an apparent fact. "_Tai-i_ Saeba, can you get us cheap lodging for as long as we need to stay in the city?"

Ryo took a sip of his tea. "Not a problem. Any friend of Yoshino's is a friend of mine." He smiled at Yoshino. "I'm just happy you're still alive and not some organic waste matter on some rock somewhere. I got intel reports about you becoming bondsman to the Cats, but then you disappeared into the homeworlds and nobody, not even the Cats, knew much after that."

Yoshino grinned in return. "I thought I'll be dead plenty of times in the past 15 years too. Good karma, I guess."

Then Ryo suddenly turned a predatory smile. "You know something? Because you weren't officially dead, your family estates caretaker… what's his name…"

"Toda." Yoshino supplied.

"Yeah, Toda. He continued running the place as if you're still alive. In fact, he was so successful that when the Combine took back Avon, your estates and holdings were the biggest on Avon. The Coordinator appointed a new Duke in charge of the place then, but he and his family died in an accident recently, and so there's now a void just waiting to be filled."

Yoshino knew what his friend meant. "You're saying I got a chance at being planetary governor."

"Yes. So, thought you knew all this already?"

"No, I just got back." _Actually, the real reason why I wasn't going to contact Toda unless it was absolutely necessary was because I was afraid of what I might find,_ Yoshino admitted to himself silently.

"But now that you know?"

"It changes nothing." He leaned back in his chair. "I'm still bondsman to Star Captain Winters, a yeoman in his quest. Nothing else matters."

"Really?" Ryo was about to press further when Descartin suddenly spoke up.

"No, that is not true at all," Descartin said, a strange fire in his eyes. "Yoshino, if you really need to take up the title, I will be most willing to release you." He spun to look at Wolkul and Tina, both of whom looked surprised. "In fact, I might as well make this official. I hereby release all of you from service. You are all free now."

Descartin continued to speak as though in a fevered dream, his words almost tumbling over one another. "Tina, Wolkul, if you wish, you can arrange transportation back to Roche. Just go to the Nova Cat embassy. Yoshino, you are back in your homeland. I have no doubt you will be one of the Combine's finest warriors. The _Nobori-Nin_ is yours."

A stunned Yoshino could only watch as Descartin stood up from his chair, giving them a slight smile and a serene expression. "I bid you goodbye. From now, none of you have anything to do with me or my quests. I wish all of you happiness and good fortune in your future endeavors."

Then he strode out of the teahouse, carrying only a small rucksack with the giftake of the Nova Cats, his letter from Jaime Wolf, his vineers, and his music scores, which was practically all he had. As he walked out, Yoshino glimpsed a satisfied look on Descartin's face, as though he had come to a decision that he had always wanted to make. Nobody moved an inch, stunned beyond belief.

"What in the Nine Hells…" Yoshino sat there with his mouth gaping wide. "Descartin!"

He shot up from his chair and ran out. He emerged into the busy streets, where throngs of people were milling about. He looked left and right desperately for Descartin, which should be a simple task given the warrior's abnormal height amongst the shorter people of the Combine and his distinct clothing.

But Star Captain Descartin Winters of Clan Goliath Scorpion was nowhere to be found.

_When this began I had nothing to say _

_I get lost in the nothing that's inside of me (I was confused) _

_I let it all out to find that I'm not the only person with these things in mind (inside of me) _

_Well I don't think they can see the words reveal _

_This is the only real thing I got left to feel (nothing to lose) _

_Just luck, hollow and alone _

_And the fault is my own, and the fall is just my own_

Descartin Winters wandered the streets of the city aimlessly. He had boarded one of the underground mass transit systems to one of the city's districts, attracting much attention from the other passengers. Of course, nobody gave him any trouble, since he still exuded a quiet menace imparted by his attire, even if he did not carry any weapons, since they were outlawed on Luthien.

The streets bloomed with smelly steam from the transit system, while a few vehicles roamed the streets. The area was not bustling with people, but it was not exactly in shutdown mode either. It was almost evening, and the city was winding down.

His actions in the teahouse had been a spur of the moment decision, and one that made perfect sense to him. If anything else, he kicked himself mentally for not having done it on Outreach. Instead, he had dragged Tina and Wolkul hundreds of light years away for no apparent reason.

He liked things the way they were now. Just him, and his quest. Nobody else needed to be with him, nobody else needed to share his risks. Nobody else needed to die for him like Deserk.

The letter, the identity of the _Archer_ pilot who might be able to help him, his fate should the Khan decide he was a renegade. He did not care anymore. He would let the fates decide his destiny, and his destination.

Somewhere where he might discover peace. Somewhere where he could find himself. Someplace where he might belong.

Not the wandering from clan to clan, the countless battles fought for various petty reasons, the death of good warriors in next to pointless conflict. He wanted none of that anymore.

He wanted a real reason for fighting, one to hold himself to, a goal to strive for. Being 'the best mechwarrior', the oft stated goal of all clan warriors, was a joke to him. So what if he was? So what if he was not? Did it ever matter?

He knew that what Frank and Ian had tried to drag him into, the establishment of a new merc unit, was an interesting idea, and he had been more than a bit tempted. But in the end it was just more useless fighting, the quest for fame and fortune. He wanted something more meaningful, something that could really make a difference. He thought it was a pity that both Frank and Ian could not recognize that. 

_I wanna heal, I wanna feel, what I thought was never real _

_I wanna let go of all the pain I felt so long(release all the pain 'til it's gone) _

_I wanna heal, I wanna feel, like I'm close to something real _

_I wanna find something I wanted all along _

_Somewhere I belong_

He was in the Paschal district, a relatively affluent district that looked to be a commercial and cultural hub in the city. The streets were relatively clear of people, and Descartin noted the easy strides of the Friendly Persuaders swinging their batons in their hands, the brightness of their candy-striped uniforms as he walked on the streets.

He was surprised at the relative affluence of the Combine. For years, and especially before and during the invasion years, he had believed that the people of the Combine lived in squalor, near barbaric levels of civilization. Even after first hand experience of the Combine during the war, he had little time to notice the details, caught up in fighting from world to world. And after Tukayyid, well, he was not in the Inner Sphere anyway, so he had little idea of how the people of the Inner Sphere lived, other than accounts from Yoshino Ihara.

He had subscribed to the Warden philosophy, but he had also strongly believed that the Inner Sphere was corrupt. But his experiences amongst the clans have also enabled him to see that they were actually no better. He was no Cloud Cobra cloister philosopher like Peyes Mannix, but he had learnt enough to know that there was no one 'best' path for humanity.

And not enough reasons to justify war with the Inner Sphere.

_And I got nothing to say _

_I can't believe I didn't fall right down on my face (I was confused) _

_Looking everywhere only to find _

_That it's not the way I imagined it all in my mind (So I implied) _

_Do I have the negativity? _

_Cause I can't justify my way when everyone is looking at me (nothing to lose) _

_Nothing but game, how I went along _

_And the fault is my own, and the fall is just my own_

It almost came as shock to him after an hour of walking and looking at people when he found himself standing in front of, of all things, a museum dedicated to the clan invasion.

The front of the museum was dominated by a statue of a dragon crushing a Clan _Dire Wolf_ in its coils. Beside it stood several statues of other mechs, all traditional Combine designs like the _Panther_, _Jenner_, _Daimyo_, _No-Dachi_, and _Akuma_ mechs, resplendent in the various field colors of the Combine's most elite regiments. Descartin walked in, marveling at the accurate depictions of the mighty war machines.

But what caught his eye was a gold _Grand_ _Dragon _standing just inside the museum, in the main lobby as he entered after ascending the steps around the _Dire Wolf_ statue. He handed over a few K-Bills from his meager supply to the attendant at the door as he entered, never taking his eyes off the mech.

For it was a real mech, not a stone sculpture imitation. And he was sure he had seen it years ago, in the Waseda Hills.

_Descartin saw a _Phoenix Hawk_ lead the charge down the slopes, followed closely by a _Grand Dragon_, moving at almost a hundred kilometers an hour. He snapped off a shot at the fourth mech in line, a _Crockett_. One PPC bolt missed, but the other burned into the left torso. The assault mech shook off the hit, and continued down the into the valley._

_"Brace yourselves!" Descartin snapped at his trinary as the gold painted mechs slammed into their lines. He did not know if any of them received his order, but the battle swept over him, and he could hardly care less as he threw himself wholeheartedly into the inferno._

He shook his head, trying to shake off the memories. _What is wrong with me?_ He asked as he came up to the plaque in front of the mech and read off the words.

"This _Grand Dragon_ was the personal mech of Coordinator Takashi Kurita as he fought the clan invaders during the Battle of Luthien, 04-05 January, 3052. Warning: Engines and weapons have been removed."

_So that explains why they fought with such tenacity, _Descartin thought. _They were led by their ruler, and it was indeed the last line of defense. If only we had tracked back and taken Takashi…_

If only, if only. It was the story of his life. If only he had done this, if only he had done that. Descartin had many regrets, and he was not sure if he could hold up under their weight.

_I wanna heal, I wanna feel, what I thought was never real _

_I wanna let you off the day I felt so long(release all the pain 'til it's gone) _

_I wanna heal, I wanna feel, like I'm close to something real _

_I wanna find something I wanted all along _

_Somewhere I belong_

He looked through the various halls, teeming with tourists and children on school trips, led by museum guides proudly extolling the bravery and skill of the Combine's warriors during the dark days of the clan invasion, and their nation's triumphs in Operations Bulldog, Serpent, and Hunter.

_Serves the Smoke Jaguars right. _Descartin had no love of the dead clan, and he had been as satisfied as any other Nova Cat, past or present, when he had heard of their demise. The Smoke Jaguars had been the most brutal and savage of all the clans, and they had paid for their sins, leaving only ghosts of the clan in the periphery, trying to eke out an existence among those they once considered far beneath them.

He passed by the various halls commemorating the victories and important battles fought by the Combine, letting his feet guide him as his mind ran through his memories of the invasion. There was one for Wolcott, where the Combine won its first battle against the clans. Another for Teniente, where he had come so close to capturing Hohiro Kurita.

Then he came to the hall for Luthien.

_"Everybody, break past the _Archer_, I will try to occupy it for as long as possible!" Descartin stomped on his foot pedals, sending the _Timber Wolf_ flying towards the _Archer_. He fired his remaining PPC at the apex of his jump._

_The PPC scored a hit, flensing away armor on the left torso._

_"That was for Deserk, freebirth!" Descartin shouted in exultation. The _Archer_ could be hit!_

_But its lasers pounded away at the already crippled _Timber Wolf_, seeking out the vulnerable innards of the mech. Descartin twisted his mech from side to side, even as he saw the rest of his command rejoin Yegro on the far side of the hills._

_Another status light for a heat sink winked from green to red. Descartin resisted the urge to wipe off the sweat pouring down into his eyes as he dueled with the _Archer_._

_He was able to connect with some shots now that they were at point blank ranges, but it was too late. The _Archer_ tore into him, slicing away actuators and engine shielding, along with his weapons. His cockpit was bathed in red as they spoke of the tremendous damage his _Timber Wolf_ had endured._

_A laser beam cut into his left leg, crippling the hip actuator just as Descartin was putting all the weight of the mech on that leg as he tried to turn to his left. The _Timber Wolf_ crashed to the ground._

He entered the hall, and was struck by a host of familiar images. He felt a wave of vertigo wash over him as he grappled with the images running in his mind. _It was so long ago…_

There was the map of Imperial City and its environs, identical to the one he had studied before the assault in his room. A space map detailing the clan run-in, a replica of the image on the ship's holotank as they dashed for the world. A _Panther_ mech of the 1st Sword, synonymous with the Combine military.

_I will never know myself until I do this on my own _

_And I will never feel, anything else until my wounds are healed _

_I will never make anything until I break away from me _

_I will break away, and find myself today_

There was a group of people in the room, along with some children, all listening to a guide as he spoke.

"The clanners landed here, on the Tairakana Plains. Our glorious aerospace fighters strafed them relentlessly, destroying many mechs and driving the barbarians further into the embrace of the Otomo. Our esteemed Coordinator, who was Kanrei at the time, had dressed up some agromechs as battlemechs. As the Smoke Jaguars closed in with them, they managed to reveal themselves as dummy mechs armed with explosives, which sent the clanners reeling!" The guide laughed, and his audience laughed with him as they savored the historical victory.

Descartin tried not to pay them any heed, even if the guide was wrong on some of the details. He looked around for information on the mercenaries, especially the Kell Hounds. With luck, he might be able to find the name of the _Archer_ pilot.

Strangely enough, there was very little information on the mercenaries who had fought in the battle. Most of the details described each of the DCMS regiments, but only a few comments about the Kell Hound and Wolf Dragoon regiments could be found.

_What a shame_, Descartin shook his head. If it was not for the mercenaries, the clans would have won the Battle of Luthien, no matter what the DCMS did. That they were relegated to the part of bit-players was a sorry piece of revisionist history.

The guide was going off again about the fight in the Waseda Hills, about how Takashi Kurita and his Dragon's Claws fought the Nova Cats to prevent them from reaching the city. But to hear the guide say it, it seemed as though they did it single-handedly, when Descartin knew full well that was simply not true.

_I wanna heal, I wanna feel, what I thought was never real _

_I wanna let go of the pain I felt so long_

_I wanna heal, I wanna feel, like I'm close to something real _

_I wanna find something I wanted all along _

_Somewhere I belong, Somewhere I belong_

_I have had enough of this_. He cleared his throat. Descartin began to speak, firmly and strongly, over the voice of the guide.

Peering into the display case for a shattered clan neurohelmet, Isis Marik wondered at the technology capable of producing such lightweight equipment. She had been around enough mechwarriors to recognize the advantages conferred by smaller, hardier neurohelmets.

It had been a dreary and boring month on Luthien, and she finally managed to convince her handlers to let her out into the city after staying cooped up in the palace with nothing to do.

Coming here to the war museum was something she had wanted to do ever since she had left Luthien when Omi Kurita died. Isis still felt sadness whenever she thought of her poor friend, murdered by an assassin when she had so much of her life left to live.

It was a very good thing Victor was the one who made the decision concerning his treacherous sister Katrina. If it had been up to Isis, she would have strung Katrina up and stuck her head on a pike, damn the consequences, for what she did to Omi and Victor.

She was here to get Omi and Victor's son, a task Victor had asked her to do for him. However, it turned out that Chandrasekhar Kurita, or 'Uncle Chandy', as he was popularly known in the Draconis Combine, and quite possibly one of the richest men in the Inner Sphere, had taken young Kitsune to Hachiman and its nearby worlds for some unscheduled fun.

So she was left to wait on Luthien, since there was no itinerary for her to use to catch up with them. Isis spent most of her time going over reruns of old period drama shows, gossiping with the ladies in the palace, and figuring what dress to wear for the dinner function of the day.

In other words, she was bored out of her mind.

She knew she had gotten over Sun-Tzu Liao's rejection, but she still felt like a floundering fish, unable to find a purpose in life. She had no place back in the Free Worlds League; her father did not even want her around. She would have been happy with Victor, but Thomas had also refused to let her near him, since Joshua's death and Victor's betrayal still rankled.

The end result of all these was that she was left with nowhere to go, and nothing to do. The trip to the museum was the first time she had actually stepped out of the Imperial Palace for a week. Accompanied only by two Otomo warrior bodyguards, she was glad to be out in the city.

Isis had been delighted to realize that other than being a gaijin woman, none of the civilians actually recognized her. She had quietly but firmly inserted herself into this mix of tourists from Pesht and schoolchildren from a school in the city, followed by her two plainly dressed bodyguards. The guide seemed knowledgeable enough, but she was a bit tired of his platitudes as he praised Takashi, Theodore, and Hohiro Kurita at regular intervals. She just wanted him to get on with the account of the battle.

The guide was saying, "Then our beloved Coordinator drove all the Nova Cats before him as they…"

"Excuse me," A voice rang out, "But that is wrong. The mechs of the Dragon's Claws held the west approach to Imperial city, while the mech of the Kell Hounds, Wolf Dragoons, and the other Combine regiments formed a ring of fire around the valley. The Dragon's Claws held their ground as the Nova Cats charged at them. Despite their best efforts, two binaries managed to break through to the Kado-Guchi Plains."

The guide spun around furiously. "Who said that?"

The crowd turned as well to see a tall man in a strange black attire standing behind them, his clothes vaguely reminiscent of the Arkab. He had a head of light brown hair, and the palest green eyes Isis had ever seen. He carried himself with quiet authority, but also with an air of the tragic about him. A small rucksack was slung over one shoulder.

"I did." He said simply.

"And what gives you the right to speak these lies?" The guide asked.

"Lies?" The man shook his head sadly. "What I said were not lies."

"Oh yeah?" The guide questioned with a tinge of sarcasm, placing his hands on his hips. "And how would you know?"

The man smiled slowly. "Because I was there."

The crowd rose their collective eyebrows. The guide rocked back slightly. The way the man had said it, and his sheer presence, was very convincing. Isis thought she had met many kinds of warriors, but this one seemed, well, different.

The man did not allow the guide to recover, and quickly got on with his account. "The defenders of Luthien quickly regrouped their forces, and engaged the rest of the clan forces as they entered the Kado-Guchi Valley. Meanwhile, the clan elements at their rear split into two, one heading for the city, while the smaller unit went back to the battle."

The man frowned, and Isis guessed he probably was reliving an unpleasant memory. "But the clans were too few in number, and the defenders fought well. The attack that managed to reach the city was snuffed out by the city's last few remaining militia units."

The man pointed at the huge map in front of them, using the mounted laser pointer in front of the map. "Over here was the Combine's remaining units, while the mercenaries were here, here, and here. The Nova Cats attempted to break the lines into half, but the Wolf Dragoons managed to push several battalions into place to halt their axis of attack. The Smoke Jaguars suffered the worst losses as they charged headlong into the valley." The man sketched out several movements on the map with the pointer.

"They were repeatedly cut off by mercenary troops, and then fell upon by the numerically superior defenders. The Jaguars lost more than a Galaxy of troops in the fighting, while the Nova Cats lost less than one. By all accounts, the defenders were badly hurt as well, having lost more than 9 regiments in the field."

"I have always wondered about the decision to pull back." The man grimaced. "If that trinary had not attacked the city, it could certainly have damaged enough units to force a general withdrawal. We could have won…" The man's voice trailed off, then a sad smile spread across his face.

"But I guess the fates never meant for us to win."

He turned, and walked away, leaving a bemused crowd staring at his back, while the humiliated guide spluttered, "Stop there!" The man continued on his own way, not paying the guide any heed.

_Strange,_ Isis thought, _I don't remember clanners, even Nova Cats, wearing that sort of attire. And he had to be a clanner, because his words suggested that he fought on Luthien on the side of the clans._

"He was right, you know," _Tai-i_ Daisuke Ichikawa of the Otomo, her assigned personal guard, said. "The clanner, I mean. I was there too."

Isis looked at Daisuke crossly. "Then why didn't you correct the guide?"

Daisuke pursed his lips. "Not my place to decide on national history." His partner, _Chu-i _Atasushi Yanagisawa, nodded emphatically.

And that was what infuriated Isis at times. For all of Theodore Kurita's reforms, the Draconis Combine was still a relatively closed society. Propaganda abounded at all levels, while the vast powers of the government boggled her.

She had grown up in the much more freewheeling environment of the Free Worlds League, and such control over the populace was unheard of. People tend to speak their minds freely, and damn the authorities. She heard things were changing under her father's rule though.

In the Draconis Combine, matters were more complex. There was a great deal of social and cultural engineering, as well as a rigid intolerance of faiths and religions other than state approved ones. There was no strict caste system, nor slaves for that matter, but Isis knew that Combine society was nevertheless stratified into levels that stifled social mobility save for the truly exceptional.

The ISF and the Order of the Five Pillars worked fastidiously to ensure that all Combine citizens were indoctrinated in the proper attitudes since birth, which resulted in a extremely stable, but ultimately close minded society unreceptive to new ideas and concepts until Theodore started his changes, which, for all of their effectiveness in bolstering the realm's prosperity, still rankled with the traditionalists.

Isis had met her share of the traditionalists, and it always took her a supreme effort of will from giving into the urge to bash out their heads with the nearest handy blunt object. They regarded women like chattel, and were often scornful of anything that did not agree with their world viewpoints.

_Tai-i _Daisuke was better. As a warrior, he had been exposed to many other cultures during his years of service to the Dragon. But he was still, first and foremost, a totally loyal soldier of the Combine.

And that included keeping his mouth shut when even lies were being propagated.

Isis sighed. "Alright. I understand. But if the man was a clanner, then why the getup?"

"I really don't know." Daisuke shrugged.

Atasushi added, "I did see something like a scorpion insignia on his vest."

"A scorpion insignia?" Isis was intrigued.

Daisuke paused to think. "Maybe he's one of those who call themselves the Goliath Scorpions. I've never met them, and they are a Warden home clan anyway, so nobody really cares about them."

Isis was worried. "But if there is such a warrior here, could it be a resumption of the invasion?"

Daisuke laughed as they walked out of the hall, "With one warrior? Impossible!"

Having had enough of the museum, Isis and her bodyguards left the building. The sun in the sky was just on the horizon, its meager light filtered out by the planet's heavy polluted atmosphere.

"Where to next, your Highness?" Daisuke asked.

Isis had not really thought about where she was going next, since she just wanted to explore the city on her own time and preference.

"Somewhere to eat, perhaps?" Atasushi suggested. "Besides, I think I'm hungry." He said sheepishly.

Isis smirked at the Otomo's admission. "Okay then, let's go for dinner. I know this Italian restaurant in the area. I've asked around the palace servants. There's this fast shortcut there, if you don't mind."

Daisuke seemed wary. "Are you sure that the route is safe?"

Isis waved off his concern. "Come on, this is Luthien! What could happen?"

_Famous last words_, she thought to herself moments later as she looked at the sprawled bodies of the Otomo on the dirty alley concrete. They had been ambushed by a group of thugs in the narrow passageway. Isis had been leading the way, her two bodyguards behind her. The thugs had struck from behind, using blackjacks in a brutal attack on Daisuke and Atasushi.

The two Otomo were highly trained hand to hand combatants, but even the finest warriors could be defeated by a well timed trap. They fell like tenpins, and Isis found herself alone, facing at least 6 thugs.

"Come along now, little lady. Give me all your money, and we'll also give you a good time!" One man with a weasel face exclaimed, grinning and revealing several broken teeth.

Isis turned and ran, only to be stopped when she saw another big thug blocking the other side of the alley, preventing her from escaping.

Isis gritted her teeth, and drew a short knife from her belt. She charged forward, slashing with the weapon at the man. The man jumped aside to avoid the blade, but in so doing allowed Isis to just squeeze past his bulk.

"Get her!" Somebody yelled.

She fled down the alleyways, emerging out onto a deserted street just as she slipped on a piece of garbage. She slid painfully across the floor. The shouts of the thugs told her of their pursuit. She tried to get up, but she was suddenly jerked back by her hair. Isis screamed in fear.

Then the grip on her hair was released just as suddenly, and she heard a thumping sound of an object hitting another, as well as a grunt from her assailant.

She shifted around on the ground to see the black clad man from the museum standing alone against eight thugs. One thug was already on the ground out cold.

"Take him!" One thug shouted. He moved forward, but the man caught his punch in his fist, and whipped his other arm with unbelievable speed into the elbow joint of the punching arm. A loud cracking sound told of broken bones as the thug screamed in agony, staggering back clutching his arm as the clanner released him.

The rest of the thugs advanced together, armed with an assortment of weapon, from knives to chains to blackjacks.

The clanner fought back with a ferocity and skill Isis had never seen before, not even in her few sessions watching Victor being tossed around by Tiaret Nevversan.

The man seemed to have eyes behind his head as he blocked and attacked with blinding speed, taking some hits and countering others. He weaved between the thugs with quick footwork, not letting them surround him at any time. Two thugs went down quickly under fast and accurate blows to their vital body parts, while another was left holding his broken nose.

One thug slashed down with his knife. The clanner blocked with his arm, which sent a splatter of blood flying as the knife opened up a vicious gash across his arm. The man did not seem to pay the wound any heed, and stepped in to headbutt the thug into unconsciousness, and followed up with an arm twist motion that sent the bloody knife into his own hands.

He spun around with the knife, dropping low at the same time to avoid the roundhouse blows passing over his head. He stabbed out with the knife, and another thug went down.

The two remaining thugs seemed to waver in their steps as they realized that they had bitten off more than they could chew. They turned to run, only to crach into Daisuke and Atasushi as they ran out of the alley.

The thugs and the Otomo went down in a tangle of limbs. Almost immediately, the thugs were hammered into submission, now that they were facing enraged and humiliated samurai.

Daisuke got up, dusting his hands on his clothes, then jogged over to Isis.

He asked, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, thanks to him." Isis nodded towards the clanner, standing quietly to one side, blood flowing down his left arm. Isis noted that he was not even breathing hard. But his eyes were bright, and at the same time vacant. _Maybe he's suffering from shock._

She walked up to him. "You're bleeding badly. You need medical attention."

Descartin started as he realized the woman talking to him. He was wondering why he had even bothered to step into the midst of this crime.

He had left the museum, and simply went down the nearest street. He had intended to look for some place to stay, and a place to eat, when he had heard a scream. Without knowing exactly why, he had gone into the fight without a thought, his accumulated hand to hand experience serving him well as he took down one thug after another.

He looked at the woman, her eyes full of concern for him.

"This is only a small wound. Nothing to be concerned about." He said.

"No," the woman insisted, "this is a serious wound. I'll take you to the nearest clinic to treat it."

Descartin opened his mouth to protest, but he shut it when he saw the determined look on the woman's face. If there was one common thing he had noticed about women in both the clans and the Inner Sphere, it was that when they really, _really_ wanted something, the man had better give in, warrior ability or not, Trial of Possession or not.

"Aff. I will go with you to bind the wound." He conceded. _No big deal, quiaff?_

He saw one of the Japanese men got up from talking to the thug with the broken nose. "Just a bunch of toughs." The Kuritan said. "I've already told them to report to the nearest Civilian Guidance Corps station to report their wounds and get medical attention."

"What makes you so sure they will do so?" Descartin asked.

"They had better for the sake of their future descendents." The man grinned, leaving no doubt as to what might befall the toughs if they did not comply. He bowed to Descartin, "_Sumimasen_. I am _Tai-i_ Daisuke Ichikawa, and this is my partner _Chu-i_ Atasushi Yanagisawa." The other Kuritan followed with a bow. "And this is Duchess I…"

"Irene Manson." The woman cut in suddenly, and Descartin thought he saw the two Kuritans raise their eyebrows in surprise. "And you are?" She asked.

Descartin thought about it. _Lie, or truth? Not point in lying, so truth it is._

"I am Star Captain Descartin Winters of Clan Goliath Scorpion, currently on a Seeker assignment."

Irene nodded, obviously trying to digest the information. Then she grabbed hold of his uninjured arm.

"Come on," she said, "Let's go."

Five minutes later in a neighborhood clinic, Descartin looked down at the bandage on his left arm, while Irene was collecting some antiseptic pills and disinfectant for his wounds, as well as paying the bill. It had turned out to be a minor injury, which Descartin already knew, one easily treated. He sat on a green colored bench, waiting for Irene.

"So, Star Captain, you fought here twenty years ago?" Daisuke asked. The two DCMS warriors sat on either side of him, and Descartin thought they were sizing him up in case of trouble.

"Aff. I was a Nova Cat with the 449th Assault Cluster."

Daisuke nodded. "I fought too. I was with the 1st Sword at the time, in a _Shadow Hawk_. I think we probably shot at each other."

"I think we probably did. I was in a _Mad Cat_ then." Descartin looked at Daisuke. "You do not seem angry."

"Why should I? We won, did we not?" Daisuke said complacently.

"True, true." Descartin agreed. "And is it possible for you to tell me why two mechwarriors like you two are guarding Miss Manson?"

"Whoever said we were guarding her?"

Descartin held out one hand, and started counting off his fingers. "One, you said she was a Duchess during the introductions, which means she is of high rank. Two, the way the two of you were so anxious back at the alley. Three…"

"We get it, we get it." Daisuke admitted. "We are bodyguards for the Duchess, as she is a very important person. Heads would roll if she came to any lasting harm."

_That explains it, but does not describe what sort of important person she is. Not that it really matters_, Descartin thought. _None of my business._

Irene seemed to have finished settling the bills, and walked over. "Mister Winters…"

"Call me Des." He knew his full name was a mouthful.

"Des," She smiled shyly, then handed him a small plastic bag, "Here're your medicines. Take them to prevent infection of your wound."

"Thank you, Duchess Manson."

"Irene." She corrected him. "Now, how about dinner?"

"Des, do you have anywhere to stay?" Irene asked.

Descartin stared down at the bones of the chicken he had devoured with relish. He had not realized he was starving until the aroma from the food hit his nostrils.

"Neg." He said. "I have nowhere to go." He tried not to sound pitiful. After all, he was still a warrior, and a warrior had his pride. He was sure he would be able to find some lodging, one way or the other. He hoped.

"My sister's family has an extra room." Atasushi said. "You could stay there. My sister and her husband are still waiting for their first child. Until then, the room can be yours, for a small rent."

"Do you have money?" Daisuke asked.

"Aff. About 800 K-bills."

"That's not a lot." Irene commented. "How about this? I pay for your lodging at the good _Chu-i_'s sister's flat, and in turn, you provide extra protection for me in the city."

"But, but…" Descartin was a bit startled at her suggestion. Being her bodyguard?

"Why not?" Daisuke jumped in. "Do you have any pressing matters?"

"Not really…"

"Then take up the Duchess' offer! And you and I can exchange tales of battle everyday!" Daisuke slapped Descartin comradely. "What do you have to lose?"

Descartin looked at Irene, who looked extremely pleased with herself, then Daisuke, who was grinning from ear to ear, and Atasushi, who was calmly waiting for his decision.

_What is it that made these people trust me so much?_ He wondered_. How can I ever repay them for their faith in me? Is it fate?_

He let out a sigh. "Very well then. I agree to your offer."

"Good." Irene said with satisfaction. "And one of the first things we are going to do is to get you some new clothes!"

"Ryo, I am getting angry." Yoshino stared at the DCMS officer. "You said you'll get us a place to stay!"

"Yeah, but isn't this it?" Ryo winced for the coming explosion.

Yoshino stabbed a finger at the wooden signboard above them. "A geisha house?" He roared. "Are you taking me for a fool?"

"Hey, the owner owes me, and it doesn't attract attention of the wrong kind." Ryo pointed out, trying to mollify his irate friend. "Besides, Tina seems to like it. Great music and culture all night long!" The _hentai_ started shaking his hips about in a lewd suggestive motion.

"ARGHHH!" Yoshino pulled at his hair as he screamed at the heavens in frustration.

That's it for the latest chapter of Seekers In Shadow! This chapter has several changes in tone, and I tried to make it a bit humorous. For the knowledgeable reader, you will note that Ryo Saeba's character was lifted from Tsukasa Hojo's City Hunter manga. To tell the truth, I'm getting sick of the oh-so-serious mechwarrior stereotype. How about a fun loving hentai pervert? :P

The song used was Linkin Park's Somewhere I Belong. Which describes Descartin's mood during that section perfectly.

Next chapter brings us back to Taurus. Get ready for some politicking and planning, as Ian Calderon(yeah, I can say it now, can't I?) tries to figure out his next step. Those who want mindless mech action can look elsewhere first. It'll be a while before I throw in the first real fight.

Oh, and before I forget, please review!


	5. Calderon

_However you looked at it, Milton Hawkings was the real genius. Not me, not the various scientists we had assembled, the brightest minds in the Inner Sphere. All of us eggheads could put together the weirdest and strangest devices ever conceived, but it was Milton who managed to steer our efforts in the most productive direction._

_He could have been such a brilliant scientist, but we all agreed it was a very good thing he decided to be an economist instead._

-_GUTting It Out, or 'How We Found the Secrets of the Universe'_, Lorik

_Clayton Family Estate, Taurus,_

_Taurian Concordat, Periphery_

_13th August 3068_

"Ian, we really need your help." Janice Calderon said as Ian pushed her wheelchair through the garden. "I suspect matters will soon reach a breaking point, and when that happens…"

Ian shook his head for the umpteenth time. "No. I only came back to have a look. Nothing more." They passed under several tall trees, the shady foliage shielding them from the afternoon sun.

Janice twisted her head around to pin him with a stony gaze. "Ian, you have this obligation. It's not something you can just walk away from easily."

"I can, and I have. Look, I have next to no credibility, not after what I did when I ran away." Ian pointed out. "You have Baron Kithrong. Get him to lead."

"It's not the same." Janice sighed. "The Baron is a powerful man, but he doesn't have the Calderon name, and he's stuck on the outskirts of the Concordat. He can't move to the political and administrative center because he has responsibilities in his holdings, and we can't even be sure he isn't looking out for himself in the first place."

Ian tried another tack. "Then what is so wrong about Shraplen?"

"He's making us too dependent on the Capellans for too little gain." Janice frowned. "In the past decade, we've lost more than two regiments getting involved in the Inner Sphere. That wouldn't be so bad if we had gotten something really useful, but instead the technology and assistance we had received from the Liaos was, in monetary terms, less than what some mercenary units had received."

"Shraplen was the leader of Macleod's Land. He's not stupid."

Janice scoffed, "Sure, he's not _that_ stupid. We received lower priority than the Magistracy because Shraplen thought membership in the Star League was a better idea, and look where that got us."

The Star League was dissolved at the end of 3067 due to its demonstrated ineffectiveness, but also scuttling the Concordat's ability for better trade agreements with the rest of the Inner Sphere. As a result, many Taurians were getting fed up of Sharplen's promises of a better future by the alliance with the Liaos and Canopans. Why, many of them were asking, couldn't they obtain the technology themselves?

In fact, the Word of Blake had been a greater help to the Concordat than its Trinity Alliance neighbors in recent months, producing many new designs and upgrading their factories, seemingly for little in return.

Ian, who had worked with and against the Blakists in the Chaos March, was certain that there was something up. The Word of Blake always had a reason for its actions, and while he never did buy into the religious fanatic portrait, he had seen enough to know to watch one's back when dealing with them.

"Things are not really that bad." He insisted.

"Oh yeah? The worlds around Baron Kithrong's holdings are in minor revolt, while events in the core worlds are slowly spinning out of control as the people demand an end to the alliance. I've never thought I'll see the day when Taurians might shoot at one another, but it seems more likely if something isn't done soon."

"I thought we made an agreement, which is why we're still in the Trinity Alliance."

Janice nodded. "Yes, but that agreement is chafing on the people, and we're getting the short end. In other words, we should renegotiate it. But Shraplen simply refuses to admit he made a mistake, and our recent buildup along the Federated Suns border, raising taxes, ignoring pirate raids doesn't help either. I swear he's getting as paranoid as Daddy. But worst of it is that he's ignoring all other claims to the Protectorship. And the Calderon name is still very much respected here, Ian."

Ian help up a hand. "So let me try to get this straight. Shraplen is getting it on the PR side because of his actions. But have the people any options as to who to replace him?"

Janice said in frustration, "That's what I've been trying to tell you! The people need an alternative, and you're it! Because Erik's too young, we can't trust Kithrong, and nobody else is suitable!"

Ian rolled his eyes. "Just because I'm around and convenient doesn't mean I'm the only option."

"There might be more, but right now, you're our best bet." Janice looked up at Ian. "I'm not forcing you to make a decision yet, but for the sake of our people, you had better soon. And that's why the reception tonight is so important. You'll need to see for yourself how bad things are."

"It can't be that bad, can it?" Ian insisted. "Dammit, I came back to have a look, not to get mixed up in politics. I'll go to the reception, but I'm still going to stay out of it."

"You're stubborn." Janice chided.

Ian riposted easily. "So are you."

That provoked a laugh from Janice. "Runs in the family!" She stopped laughing after a while. "Have you thought about who to bring with you? You'll need an escort." Ian swore he saw a devilish glare in his sister's eyes at that moment.

When he did not reply after a while, Janice pressed on. "Nobody knows who you are yet, but we can hardly keep that a secret, can we? It's important that you look the part of a successful man, and a successful man must always have a beautiful woman beside him. I think you already have that part quite settled."

Ian started. "Wait a minute, you're not suggesting…"

She smiled. "Miss Mattlov certainly looks attractive enough, and she seems to like you. If we could only get her to dress up…"

Ian was incredulous. "Do you have any idea what you're talking about? This is a bred-for-war trueborn soldier of the clans we're talking about! She's never been in such a social situation, and she has utterly no idea of our social mores. It'll be all too easy for somebody to make a mistake around her and end up beaten up, or even worse, dead."

Janice laughed. "Don't be silly. That won't happen."

"How can you be sure? How many of those people at the reception tonight have actually met a clanner before? There're few things in the Inner Sphere more prickly than a clanner. It takes very little to get them angry."

"Ian, you're over-exaggerating." Janice shot Ian a sharp glance. "I've talked to her in the past few days, and she seems normal enough to me."

"She's just trying to be polite. When she snaps, and I'm pretty sure she's going to snap soon, I don't want to be anywhere around her."

"What is it between you and her anyway? Is she your subordinate, your officer, an enemy, or something else?"

Ian groaned inwardly. It was something he tried not to think about. Even now, her status was extremely undefined. Heck, she didn't even have a rank with the MIB! He wondered if it was a deliberate oversight on his part. He didn't want to look deeper.

He admitted, "I don't know myself. But still…"

"In any case, she is the perfect choice. Or would you want me to select one of the many eligible ladies from Samantha?" Janice's eyes twinkled with mischief.

Ian shuddered, then threw up his hands in resignation.  "Okay, I give up. I'll take her along. But," he leaned down to Janice's level to look at her, "that's provided somebody can actually convince her to get dressed up."

Janice grinned. "That won't be a problem."

Daniela frowned in puzzlement as she found herself swarmed by a veritable horde of servants. 'Swarmed' really was the right word to use here, as they were all over her just like Elementals on a mech.

She had been in her room trying to decide what to wear for the reception Ian told her they wee going to that night, before the servants had suddenly charged into her room, and firmly pressed her into the chair before the mirror.

She had thought it was an attack, but her attackers came armed with strange smelling bottles, rack after rack of clothes, boxes of shoes, and an assortment of cases with brushes and long thin sticks. She realized that whatever it was, it was not an attack.

Daniela tried to use a hand to swat away a pink fluffy thing near her face, but her hand was grabbed by another servant, who started applying some type of colored liquid on her fingernails.

One girl was saying, "Your skin is so smooth! How do you manage to keep it that way? This powder will make it absolutely glow!"

Another girl said, "Your face looks so natural! I bet you've never put on makeup before, right? A bit here, and a bit there, and you'll knock all the men out!"

Daniela felt claustrophobic for a moment as she was assailed on all sides by the servants, chattering away at her and with one another. For the first time in her life, she felt really helpless. They worked on her hair, her skin, with strange liquids. For Kerensky's sake, they were even working on her eyelashes! It finally dawned on her that this might actually be some esoteric form of torture.

Out of a corner of her eye, she spied Benny Greaves peeking in through the door.

"Lieutenant Greaves, help!" She shouted, only for Benny to yelp and run away with a scared expression on his face as he saw somebody approach from one end of the corridor. The servants did not pause in the slightest in their efforts.

Then she saw Janice Calderon enter the room in her wheelchair, pushed along by a female servant.

"Help me!" Daniela implored the much older woman. "Get them off me!"

Janice blinked for a few seconds. "What do you mean?" She said as her wheelchair came up beside Daniela's torture chair.

"This… this torture!"

Janice blinked a few more times, before understanding came to her. She laughed, "Oh, I see. Miss Mattlov, this is not torture!"

"Then what is it?" Daniela asked frightfully as she heard a whirring sound behind her. She turned for an instant to see a device shaped like a gun aimed at her head, before another servant spun her head to face the mirror again.

"That device behind you is a hairdryer, while these servants are helping you to makeup. After that, we'll find a nice attire for you, and then they'll make some more adjustments. Girl, not many people have this sort of privilege!" Janice waved a hand, and suddenly all the servants dropped their tasks and left the room in an instant. The last one out closed the door. The hubbub in the room ceased, leaving the two a moment alone.

"What is makeup?" Daniela asked, calmer now that the 'torture' had stopped.

"It's the action of putting cosmetics and scents."

"Why is it necessary? All this… fuss over nothing."

"Ah, but it is not 'over nothing'. Image for a woman is very important, Daniela. By making yourself look better, you'll make a better impression on other people, and that'll help you make friends."

Daniela stiffened slightly at the woman's casual use of contractions. While she was more or less used to their use nowadays, she still could not help an involuntary reaction. She also wondered at Janice's explanation.

She asked, "Why would I want to make friends here, Janice?"

Janice seemed to be a bit taken back by her question, "Because having more friends is a good thing. To be honest, it's more for Ian's sake than for yours."

"Because he might get caught up in a civil war, and needs all the allies he could find?"

Janice raised an eyebrow, "How did you know?"

Daniela said, "I have been listening to the reports on the media. There seems to be a great deal of resistance to this Protector Grover's rule." She felt Grover did not merit a bloodname. "And it is growing by the day. The Commander is a Calderon, and the descendent of a former ruler, so naturally he has a right to the Protectorship. More importantly, he is here on this planet, the capital of your nation. It was easy to put two and two together."

Janice smiled appreciatively. "Yes, you are correct, save for one thing. Ian has not decided if he wants to claim the Protectorship. I hoped the reception tonight will change his mind."

Daniela bit her lips for a moment. "Commander Calderon does not change his mind easily."

"I know. But I think he will once he sees what is going on." Janice frowned. "Why do you insist on calling him Commander?"

Daniela felt the question strange, as was the change in subject. "Because he is my superior officer."

Janice shook her head. "We're not in a military situation. There's no need for that sort of formality."

Daniela looked puzzled. "Then what should I call him?"

"Just Ian, for starters." Janice sighed ruefully. "That boy also should have enough sense to correct you. He never was very good at communicating with the opposite sex."

Daniela looked down at her hands, trying hard not to show her own frustration at getting Ian to _really_ talk to her. The last few days had been idyllic, and she had spent a lot of time with Ian, over meals and long walks in the gardens. But they kept dancing around each other, shying away from expressing their mutual attraction, instead focusing on their usual topics of tactics, mechs, and war stories.

It had taken her some effort to suppress the ill feelings she realized she still harbored from her clan upbringing. For example, every clan child learnt about how the entire fall of the Star League started on New Vandenburg, which was largely considered by many Taurians to be their emotional capital with its bloody history against the their Star League oppressors. Needless to say, it had been an eye-opening experience.

Janice reached out to pat her on one hand. "I know, I know. You have feelings for him, don't you?"

_I do not know. What are these feelings inside me?_ Daniela said, "I am not sure." She fixed a determined look on her face. "But as his subordinate, it is my duty to assist him in whatever I can. If it requires me to undergo this… makeup, then I shall do so."

Janice rolled her eyes. "Never mind. I'll call in the servants. You'll find yourself a new woman in a short while." She patted Daniela's hand again reassuringly. "Trust me."

Ian Calderon shuffled his feet nervously as he stood near the entrance doors of the mansion, waiting for Daniela to join him. Ian wore a stylish white suit and tie combination, picked out by Janice to emphasize his built and presence. Benny Greaves waited beside him, dressed in a black chauffeur suit.

Benny would serve as their driver, something which Ian had tried to argue Benny out of, but the warrior ultimately insisted on. Ian had relented in the end. Having fought with Benny on Einstein, he had utmost trust in the small man's ability and loyalty.

The two made small talk as they waited, discussing the weather and what topics might come up at the reception, and also what they could do for an escape plan if matters turned ugly, especially with Daniela around.

The sound of heels on a wooden surface made Ian look up instinctively. His jaw hit the ground.

Coming down the stairs was a vision of pure beauty. The woman wore a strapless red gown, with slits along her legs to show off their length. Her hair was tied up in a coif that glittered with jewels, reflecting the room's lights.

Then she suddenly stumbled on the steps. She managed to grab hold of the staircase railings in time, but the action ruined the perfect scene. "Curse these stravag shoes!" She yelled, which brought Ian out of his daze.

He realized, quite belatedly, that it was Daniela Mattlov in the gown. _I can't believe it. What did Janice do?_ He swallowed hard as a sinking feeling came over him. _How do I prevent a bloodbath when every man at the reception hits on her?_

Benny Greaves coughed loudly, loud enough to draw Ian's attention away from Daniela. "I'll get the car, boss."

Ian walked up the steps to where Daniela was massaging an ankle. "Daniela, are you all right?"

She looked up, with an annoyed expression on her face. "I will be fine… Ian. Why did Janice insist that I wear these 'high heels'?"

_Woah! _Ian was surprised. _She called me by name!_

"It's a tradition." He said as he helped her up, then offered up an arm for support, which she accepted. He guided her down the stairs and out the doors, just in time to see Benny pull up in the porch with their transport, a black hovercar. Benny hopped out, and opened the passenger doors for Ian and Daniela.

Ian entered first, then Daniela. He saw a wry grin on Benny's face as the Lieutenant ran his eyes over Daniela as she entered after him. Benny looked at Ian once, and gave him a wink. It obviously meant, "Good luck".

"I don't suppose Janice told you what you were getting into, huh?" Ian asked as the car started moving.

"Neg. She only told me that you needed my help, and that it necessitated my attire."

Ian suppressed a groan. _Is Janice trying to get me into trouble on purpose?_

"What are you thinking about?" Daniela's question brought him back to the conversation.

"I was thinking of possible problems at the reception. There's a lot going on here that might take you a while to understand. Basically, you know I'm here to look for business partners, but it's entirely possible matters might take different turn."

"Because of who you are?"

Ian nodded. "Yes. I want you to be careful and patient. Think of this as the bidding before a battle. Do not mention Einstein, and try not to overplay your identity as a clan warrior."

He coughed self-consciously into a hand. "Also, you might realize that what you're wearing now makes you very, very attractive. This isn't the clans, and there's every chance some of the men there will be too drunk to see any sense." He sighed. "In any case, watch yourself. If anything goes wrong, don't look for me. Go straight for Benny, and get back to the mansion."

She narrowed her eyes. "Is trouble likely?"

_I hope not._ Ian said, "I don't know. This is new ground for me too." He glanced out the window at the moonlit farms passing by. "Give me a mech and a battlefield, instead of the backstabbing and saber talk of the boardroom. I can cut and deal with the best of them, but…"

"You do not like it," she said firmly, "You are a warrior. Deal with them like one."

He chuckled softly. "If everything was as easy as it is in the clans. Just try as hard as you can, and not start any incidents, okay?" She nodded, which reassured him.

It was not a long ride. After twenty minutes, the hovercar reached the Protector's residence, where the reception was held.

The reception was supposed to be an affair only for the top nobles and businessmen in the Taurian Concordat, a sort of semi-formal meeting where they could gather to discuss issues and make deals while having a buffet. Ian had been invited by Janice, and he had the invitation letter in his pocket. Quite obviously, nobody knew his identity yet.

Until he was announced upon his entry, of course.

There were butterflies in his stomach as they passed through several security checkpoints before Benny pulled up at the front porch. An usher opened the door for Daniela to step out. The gape on the young usher's face the instant he saw Daniela was priceless.

Ian followed Daniela out, and he snapped his fingers once in front of the dazed usher, who was shocked out of his funk. The embarrassed usher quickly closed the car door, while Ian and Daniela walked to the doors.

As they walked up the steps, Ian could remember images from his past, when his father was still Protector, when he was still happy, when his father was still sane. Images of him waving to his father as Thomas left for work, of him greeting his father happily every evening.

Of him running away in the rain, a distraught Janice in her wheelchair on the steps, while curses from his furious father thundered in the house.

After so many years, he was back. _Can I face up to the demons of my youth?_ He wondered.

"Are you all right?" Daniela asked him.

Ian took in a deep breath to clear his mind, then let out a long sigh. "Yes, I'm fine," he said, "Let's go in."

A servant greeted them as they walked through the doors, took Ian's invitation letter, then led them along several corridors before they were handed off to a minor official in charge of protocol. There weren't a lot of guests in front of them, and it was soon their turn to be announced.

The official took a look at the invitation letter, and asked, "How would you like to be addressed, sir?"

_He doesn't know because there are no names stated on the letter,_ Ian thought. He smiled darkly as he replied, "Baron Ian Calderon." As a scion of the Calderon family, Baron was the default title given to him. He held out another letter, one written by Janice herself, that verified his identity.

It had been a difficult decision for him to decide if he should keep a low profile, but he figured that the truth would be revealed sooner or later, and doing it on his own terms, at this event, was preferable to somebody else finding out about it later. He had told himself, _nothing to hide, right?_

The official looked up from his writing pad with a shock, and took a long look at Janice's letter. He had an incredulous expression on his face, but gamely recovered his composure. "Very well, sir," he said, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary "And your companion?"

Daniela answered for herself, "Daniela Mattlov."

_She didn't state her rank. Not that I gave her any, _Ian kicked himself mentally for that oversight. Having a rank in front of her name would have been so much better.

The protocol officer nodded as they passed him. Just as Ian walked past him, the official suddenly leaned forward and spoke into Ian's ear. "It's good to have you back, young sir."

Ian turned to look at the official in surprise, then he saw the man nod again solemnly.

He resumed his walk, with Daniela's hand on his arm, as the official announced, "I present Baron Ian Calderon and Miss Daniela Mattlov!"

The slight buzz in the room from a dozen conversations instantly disappeared as they all turned to look at Ian and Daniela in shock at hearing the Calderon name. _My grand entrance_, Ian thought wryly.

He walked in, keeping his stride strong and confident, conscious of the eyes on him for his identity, and the eyes on Daniela for her sheer beauty. He fixed his eyes on the far side of the room, where he could see Protector Grover Shraplen. The older man with balding hair in a noble's attire, standing next to several white-clad Word of Blake officials, stared back, and Ian felt the temperature in the room rise several notches from the tension.

He walked up to a table, and picked up a glass of wine. He raised it in a silent toast to Shraplen, and threw his head back, draining it in a single swallow. Shraplen nodded almost imperceptibly, and the tension in the room defused as people started talking again.

Ian was very sure that he was the hot topic of the moment. He had thought over his entry very carefully, knowing the likely effect of his name. By toasting Shraplen, he had served notice of his peaceful intentions to put Shraplen at ease, which should hopefully keep him from being embroiled in any partisan politics.

Of course, his very presence would probably be enough of a magnet to those opposed to Sharplen, no matter how much he protested. _I can't think of this. Better get to my real mission, getting some industrialist to invest and provide economic opportunities for the MIB. Now, who do I talk to?_ He looked around, trying to get a handle on likely candidates.

Ian could distinguish between the various people in the room almost solely by their attire. Nobles wore expensive ballroom attire, while businessmen were in normal suits. Military officers provided a contrast in their blue colored dress uniforms. He could discreet glances thrown his way every now and then, with almost as many thrown at Daniela as well.

Daniela tugged on his arm. "Somebody's coming," she said.

Ian turned to see a smiling man in a gray suit approach him, accompanied by a woman in a military uniform.

The man immediately stuck out a hand, "I'm Milton Hawkings, pleased to meet you." He gestured to the woman beside him, "And this is Subaltern Jenna Doe, of the Red Chasseurs." The woman bowed in greeting.

Ian gripped Hawkings' hand firmly, "Colonel Ian Calderon of the Mercs in Black, and this is Daniela Mattlov, my assistant."

Milton smiled. "Not Baron now, eh?"

"No. I could have put down both my titles, but I had to pick one for the sake of brevity. I though Baron would make more of an, ah, impact."

Hawkings raised an eyebrow, "Quite an impact, if that was what you had wanted."

Subaltern Doe chipped in, "For a moment I thought there was going to a fight. More the pity there wasn't. I'd have liked to see Grover get his ass handed to him for once."

"I'm not sure I understand, Subaltern." Ian asked warily.

"Grover's putting us on damn too many alerts for absolutely no reason," Jena shook her head angrily, "and pirates are taking advantage on the borders."

"You're a member of the Red Chasseurs, right?" Ian asked. "I thought your unit is supposed to be out in the New Colony Region?"

Jenna nodded. "Yes and no. My battalion is rotated out to Taurus for rest and refitting. With so many units watching the oh-so dangerous Davions, we're just about the only ones left to deal with bandits and the like."

"Pirate hunting solahma," Daniela scoffed, "hardly tasks fitting for real warriors, quiaff?"

The subaltern frowned, "Neg. It is a worthy task. Protecting the weaker castes is only right and proper."

To Ian's growing consternation, Daniela shot back, "Tasks right and proper for dezgra and chalcas. After all, their opponents are certainly such stravag scum."

Jenna replied, "Stravag does not mean they are less capable. I have faced them in many battles, and I am not any unblooded warrior! You do not seem like a warrior yourself, dressed up like a doll!"

Ian was about to cut into the heated exchange when Milton asked quizzedly, "Huh? What does 'unblooded' mean? Strafe? Sola… something? Jenna, I'm completely lost about your military lingo."

Ian added, "I didn't know the Taurian Concordat took in clan bondsmen. Unless I'm missing something?" He raised an eyebrow in query.

Jenna' frown faded away to be replaced by bewilderment. Her hands began to shake slightly. A worried Milton quickly stood beside her to offer his support.

"I don't understand." She looked down at the floor. "What came over me?"

"You were clan." Daniela stated firmly. "Which clan were you from?"

Jenna looked up with slight panic. "I don't know. I really don't know what you're talking about."

"She's doesn't know she was." Milton elaborated, "She was an amnesiac found wandering alone in the starport about 9 years ago, without any explicit memory that she could recall. She was taken in by the authorities, but there wasn't any records on her at all. So she was given the name of Jenna Doe. Typical hospital misnomer." He smiled ruefully.

His words seemed to have focused Jenna, who continued, "I was taken in by a military couple. My adoptive father was a tank commander, and he sponsored me when it was my turn to serve in the defense force. I never knew why, but it all felt so familiar."

"Sure it did." Milton deadpanned. "Jenna was so good that she broke her instructor's arm on her very first day. They waived the rest of her training after she started posting unbelievable scores on the mech simulators. Now she's the Concordat's best mechwarrior."

"I know what I can do, but I had no idea why. I cannot remember my past. All I can do is to face the future," she said determinedly. "Miss Mattlov, your speech was very similar to how I sounded when the hospital taped down my responses years ago. If you are a clanner, then it follows that I'm probably one too."

"Wait a minute, didn't the Smoke Jaguars get wiped out around nine years ago?" Ian made a quick count, "Yup, that probably explains it."

Milton's eyes bugged out for an instant. "You might be right. We never thought of that. That would explain an awful lot."

Ian looked carefully at the businessman. The concern he was showing for Jenna Doe was, he was quite sure, more than that from an ordinary friend. In a way, he thought Milton reminded him of, well, himself.

"Come with me, Subaltern," Daniela said, "I will try to jog your memory. Ian, you had better get down to your real purpose here."

"Is it some girl thing I'm not aware of?" Ian asked.

"Neg," Daniela replied, "it is a clan thing. Unless you had clan training yourself, quineg?"

"Nope." Ian sighed. "Alright, Daniela, since you seem eager to help. I'll talk a while longer to Mister Hawkings here. Go do… whatever you need to do."

As the two women walked off, Ian found himself staring at Daniela's shapely posterior. _I hope she remembers what I told her in the car when some fool approaches her. _He tore his eyes away to look back at Milton.

"So," Ian said, "what is it exactly that you do, Mister Hawkings?" He already knew, but it was always better to hear it from the man himself.

"Call me Milton." He smiled. "I'm the CEO and owner of Hawkings Consortium. Maybe you've heard of it?"

"Yes, who hasn't?" Ian grinned. He _had_ heard of the up and coming corporation that had grown aggressively over the past five years, shoving its way into the forefront of the Taurian Concordat economy with a variety of civilian manufacturing products that had proven to be wildly successful.

But most important to Ian was the fact that Hawkings had began producing military equipment by diversifying from its civilian products. Tanks from cars, military software from gaming software, and explosives from chemical plants. Everything from a civilian manufacturing base could be converted to military usage. Hawkings had seemed shrewd enough to recognize the vast profits from the military industry, and done exactly that.

It was a major stroke of luck for him to run into Milton Hawkings at the very beginning. Ian had already picked out the most likely people to talk to about the joint venture program, and Hawkings was on the top of his list.

And he suspected Hawkings also knew who he was already. Why else would the guy approach him so quickly after his entrance?

Milton was saying, "Yes, everybody has heard of my company. Guess it's not difficult to miss us when we're on the air every ten minutes with a commercial for our products."

"If I'm not mistaken, your company recently decided to get into the military production business, right?"

Hawkings smiled, and it seemed to be the smile of a wolf to Ian, "Let's get to the point, Colonel. I think I know what you want. Let me say what I know about you first."

"Several months back, there was a massive expedition to the Periphery in the vicinity of the Marian Hegemony with dozens of merc units, including you, in search of lostech from the Star League. Then a few months later, you arrived on Outreach, in command of a brand new merc unit and lots of recovered tech for sale. Am I correct so far?"

Ian nodded for him to continue. No point revealing the presence of aliens. That had been one of the little factoids even the houses, with their spies, had covered up quite nicely. Nobody wanted to generate mass hysteria for aliens long dead.

Hawkings continued, "Now, everybody has heard of rumors concerning the existence of Star League manufacturing bases in the Deep Periphery. While most of these were rumors, there's often a hidden grain of truth. And if I'm right, you've stumbled on one of those grains."

Again, Ian did not add anything. It was probably a bad idea to reveal that the manufacturing base on Einstein was not even human in origin. If they could only understand how exactly to operate the machines, which Pascal Thome was having fits with, from last he heard.

"While you have the hardware, it's useless without a labor force and an organization to operate them. You could have linked up with one of the other corporations in the Inner Sphere like General Motors, Nissan, Blackwell, Aldis, but you didn't, because you felt your bargaining power couldn't match up to theirs in any negotiation."

Ian nodded, impressed by Milton's analysis. The only problem Milton had neglected to mention was that many of those corporations had firm, centuries-old ties to the Houses in one way or another, something which he wanted to avoid.

"So to look for other companies with about equal parity as your unit, you came here to the Periphery to look for a business partner. You chose the Taurian Concordat because we have one of the most highly educated populace, even compared to the Inner Sphere, and because you still harbored strong sentiments about the nation you could have ruled."

Ian could have done without the last bit, but the whole thing was more or less true. He finally spoke, "And since you have figured what I'm here for, I suppose I don't have to convince you about what we've found, right?"

Milton laughed, "If you have indeed found a Star League manufacturing base with advanced technology," Ian tried not to wince at the falsehood, "then this would be a business opportunity beyond comparison! Let me be the first to offer my company as a business partner, that is, if you're willing."

"We did find a lot of abandoned factories on the lostech world, and they're in good shape." Ian started walking towards a food table. "You're right in that we don't have the labor to crank stuff out, and that I came here to look for exactly that. Now my question to you is, what exactly can your company, and you, bring to the partnership?" Ian swiped a croissant stuffed with caviar from the table, and bit into it.

"A fair question. I think our track record speaks for itself. My people are extremely competent, and we've gotten this far by seizing every opportunity that came our way, with innovative products and consumer friendly ideas. I can guarantee huge profits for you and your men if you hook up with my company."

"And everything depends on the bottom line." Ian agreed, as he chewed a small mouthful. "But aren't you putting too much stock into what I'm saying?"

Milton laughed, "The facts speak for themselves. Besides, there'll be a lot to do. What I want is a verbal commitment first."

"No problem. A verbal commitment. Now, tell me about yourself. You seem a bit young for somebody who's steering a megacorp."

Milton frowned, "Actually, I'm over thirty already."

Ian laughed. "And most CEOs are in their late forties! Sorry, but you didn't answer my question."

"Okay," Milton smiled, "I'm really just taking over from my parents, who built up the company from the ground up. It was up to me because, well, not even the director's board understood many of the concepts that allowed us to be so successful."

"Concepts?" Ian prompted for elaboration. "Care to explain?"

"Just the theories my parents discovered, or should I say, recovered from the molding textbooks my father found in the attic when he was moving house years ago. Turns out those were actually lostech of a sort, economic theories, business policies, and human resource management. My father was just an economics undergraduate at the time, and he quickly realized just how much theory had been lost. Unfortunately, when he wanted to release them to the university, his learn-by-rote professors didn't believe him. My father got fed up, and dropped out of school along with my mom, who was his classmate. They got into a business venture with some relatives, and the rest was history."

"But those theories, they were important, weren't they?"

"Yes, they were," Milton nodded, "With them, my parents could predict with some accuracy the consequences of any policy change, and how they could best take advantage of them."

"My father was so successful that when your brother Jeffrey took over, he appointed him as his Treasury Director in charge of the Exchequer. It's just too bad the Protector Shraplen got somebody else to be director when he took over."

Ian picked up on the slight tinge of anger. "I take it you didn't like it?"

"My father worked hard, and he was good at his job. The prosperity of the past few years was the result of his efforts, because his economic policies took time to have an effect. But you can see how bad the past four years had been. The economy isn't growing as fast as it was, especially since we're supposed to have 'help' from the Capellans. Trade is down with the Federated Suns, at a time when they need as many imports to help them recover, and we have plenty to export to them. And that's just the tip of the iceberg."

Milton let out a long suffering sigh, "I hope you won't be offended if I say that I don't like Grover Shraplen very much right now. And about half the people in this room share my opinion."

"They're entitled to it," Ian shrugged nonchalantly. He certainly wasn't about to get involved, not if he could help it.

Milton looked up as if he saw someone approaching them from behind. "And I think I have monopolized your time enough for tonight," he handed Ian a namecard," here's my contact details. Call me tomorrow. Good night." He walked off, presumably to look for the women.

Finishing up the last of his food, Ian turned around slowly to see Grover Sharplen, accompanied by two men, one in a Capellan military uniform, and the other in white colored Word of Blake robes. With a bit of a surprise, Ian realized he knew those two men.

"Good evening, Baron." Grover said, though Ian could tell easily that the man wasn't pleased at all by his own sudden appearance. "How do you find the food tonight?"

"It is most excellent, my Lord." Ian nodded courteously.

"Ah, let me introduce my two companions, both representatives from the Concordat's closest allies. This is…"

"It's been a while, Xie." Ian cut in, offering his hand to the blond Capellan. "How's the leg?"

Xie Xun, former of the CCAF, and now ambassador to the Taurian Concordat, shook the offered hand, and smiled in genuine pleasure. "Ah, Ian, my leg is fine. I have finally gotten used to the artificial replacement."

"I'm sorry I couldn't come in time during that last battle on Caph," Ian said apologetically.

Xie waved off Ian's comment. "Not your fault. The very fact that I'm still alive and in largely one piece is due to your unit."

Ian turned to the Word of Blake Precentor next, "And you, Roger, how have you been?"

Roger Mills replied, "I've been very well. Obviously, you can see that I've been promoted." He added smugly. "I didn't know you were a Calderon. Quite a surprise."

"I didn't know you were already acquainted with them, Baron," Grover said.

"I met them in the Chaos March." Ian explained. "Sometimes I was trying to kill them. Sometimes I was trying to help them."

"Hah!" Xie laughed. "You could try to kill me, but you could never beat me in a duel!"

"Yeah," Ian grimaced as he remembered some of the battles he had against the warrior nicknamed the "Golden Lion" for his blond mane, "but that was quite long ago. I think I'll have improved quite a bit since then. At least, I was able to beat Roger when my contract took me up against him." He grinned.

The black haired Mills rolled his eyes. "Please don't remind me. I almost got demoted whenever I lost."

"I am surprised to see that none of you bear each other any real animosity." Grover remarked. "I had thought all of you would be angry at each other."

Mills smiled, "My Lord, when you've been in the Chaos March, you realize that factions and loyalties fall by the wayside, and that the only person you could trust is an honorable man, even if he might be your enemy. All three of us are men of honor. Yes, we might try to kill each other on the field of battle, but we also accept the fact that it's the bloody nature of the times we live in that forces us to do so. Outside of the battlefield, beyond the contract, we are acquaintances, and perhaps, even friends."

"So, Baron Calderon, why are you back here?" Grover asked.

Ian had been waiting for this question all night. Grover Shraplen was obviously trying to be polite, but Ian wasn't fooled. It was a challenge, plain and simple. And Ian hoped, one easily answered. "It's nothing, really. I came back on some business for my merc unit. The Mercs in Black. Maybe you've heard of it?"

Grover's face changed immediately on hearing the name. It went from slightly antagonizing to straight out concerned. "The unit which is currently selling lostech to the Houses?"

"Yes, that's my unit," Ian said, "I have not heard of any offers from the Concordat, which is surprising."

"We're still trying to negotiate a suitable price," said Grover, which looked like backpedaling to Ian. "Perhaps you might be willing to lower the price…"

"Sorry, my Lord, but that is not my decision. In any case, I would be leaving once I had settled my business here. It'll not take too long, I hope."

"Baron Calderon, I'll be frank with you." Grover stated firmly, "If you are here for business, fine. But if you are here to _disrupt_ the Taurian Concordat, then you had better be careful. Also, I think you should avoid people like Milton Hawkings and his ilk."

_Well, well, _Ian thought,_ so Hawkings has shown his opposition to Shraplen. Perhaps Milton Hawkings has his own agenda when he wanted to talk with me. I had better watch my step. One wrong move might send Grover after me._

"Thank you for your advice, my Lord," Ian answered carefully, "but who I associate with is my own concern, not yours. I would not dare dream of hurting the Taurian people." If Grover took any indication of Ian's use of the word 'people' instead of 'Concordat', he didn't show it.

"I'm glad to hear that," agreed Grover, a bit too heartily, "But you must agree with me, and not those idiots like Hawkings, that the Davions are to blame for all our troubles for the past few years. I fear that with their civil war over, they'll soon turn their warmongering eyes on us."

Ian felt like laughing at Shraplen's stupidity, but he clamped it back. "Sorry sir, but that is just not possible right now, not with their military in shreds! The Taurian Concordat has absolutely no need to fear the Federated Suns! Not when there are enough problems to deal with here."

"Problems like that rebellious Kithrong," said Shraplen vehemently. "But you can never discount the Davions. They have ever been our bane, taking our worlds and killing our people…"

"That was hundreds of years ago, Protector," Ian said quietly. "That's all in the past. They're no threat now."

"That's easy for you to say, young man," Shraplen shook his head, "Why is it that I'm the only who sees the problem? Why can't the Taurian people? This is all for their own good!"

Those words sent slight chills up Ian's back as Grover continued to rant. _God, maybe Janice did have a point. Grover's losing it. He sounded just like Father. If he keeps on like this…_

Ian knew he might just be forced into actions that he did not want at all.

Precentor Roger Mills observed the conversation quietly even as he slipped away for some more food. He kept a closer eye on Ian than on Shraplen.

It was partly because he was sure Shraplen did not need 'minding', and also partly because Ian's appearance was wholly unexpected, and he wanted to take another measure of the man. Not that they haven't met, and fought, enough times during those halcyon days in the Chaos March.

Yes, ROM intelligence had indicated that Ian Dorlacen had traveled to Taurus for a business venture, and that he was staying at the Claytons, where Janice Calderon was also staying. But the fact that ROM did not know he was a Calderon, a son of Thomas Calderon, was a real surprise. ROM was _supposed_ to be infallible. After so many years, why didn't they know he was a Calderon?

Which made his appearance tonight as a Calderon extremely troubling to Mills. His mind raced as he pondered the possibilities, most of which he did not like.

If his guess was correct, Ian could be angling to take over the Protectorship, which would be, well, highly inconvenient to the Word of Blake, not after they had spent so much time cultivating Grover Shraplen, which helped a lot with the recent influx of Taurian produced mechs into the Word of Blake militia, as well as gaining control of 70% of the HPGs in the Concordat, ensuring a steady flow of monies into their coffers.

Roger never did know exactly what they did to Shraplen to get his help, since his predecessor didn't tell him, but he was grateful all the same for the ease it brought to his job of transporting more troops into the Taurian Concordat to guard their facilities, currently almost an entire pre-Tukayyid Level V in strength now.

As a True Believer, he was more than a bit worried about the growing power of the Toyamas, which was permeating the Word of Blake command structure in many ways. His superior on Terra was a Toyama. Ditto for his second in command, and about half of the staff on Taurus. In many ways, the situation made him extremely uncomfortable, though he could not place his finger on what was wrong. After all, they were all committed to Blake's vision, right?

Ian Calderon in his revealed persona, was a new variable, one that had the potential to upset their plans, whatever those plans might be. Worse, he was a highly competent variable, and the worst part of it was that Roger liked him. They had fought side by side before, and such ties of blood weren't forgotten so easily. If he had to order Ian's death, in the dark and not in open battle, Roger didn't know if he could do it.

If Ian indeed wasn't out to supplant Shraplen, as he had said himself, then there wouldn't be a problem for anyone. But if he was, then some form of conflict between the two in the near future was going to be likely, with Roger placing his bets on Ian. And even if Ian wasn't out for the throne, but Grover _still_ pissed him off with some of his by-now customary foul ups, then Roger was sure Ian wouldn't take it lying down either, which would still lead to conflict. Well, at least one out of three possible outcomes was favorable.

_This is getting better by the minute_, Roger thought sourly. For a moment, he wondered if he should have taken the offer to head up the anti-guerilla task force on Terra. But he remembered refusing that job when he realized he would have to take some very questionable actions if he was to be effective.

Nothing to do, he finally decided, except to see what might happen next, and react accordingly. If anything, his knowledge of Ian Calderon might even be crucial in the days ahead.

_Very well Ian Calderon_, thought Roger silently, _let's see if you can handle Taurus like you did the Chaos March, my friend. I, for one, do not savor the idea of opposing you._

That's it for the latest chapter. Introducing several characters with minor and major roles to play later, including a not-so-bad Wobblie. This wasn't easy to write, since I realized I had a tendency to go off into long rants in the middle, which really sagged.

Again, sorry for the lack of any mech action. I needed this chapter to sort of set up the political dealing in the Concordat, which would be getting very heated soon.

Next up is Frank Meronac on New Avalon. He gets beaten up in the very first scene. Karmic payback, perhaps?

However, it'll be about another month before the next chapter is up, so stay tight!

Here's another mech preview. Another stunning design for the Word of Blake!

Type/Model:    Fornax FRN-2X

Tech:          Inner Sphere / 3070

Config:        Biped BattleMech

Rules:         Level 2, Standard design

Mass:          40 tons

Chassis:       Leo V Endo Steel

Power Plant:   280 Ford Fusion

Walking Speed: 75.6 km/h

Maximum Speed: 118.8 km/h

Jump Jets:     7 Rawlings 75 Standard Jump Jets

Jump Capacity: 210 meters

Armor Type:    2/Star Slab Special Ferro-Fibrous 

Armament:      

  4 Blankenburg Technologies Medium Lasers

  1 Improved C³ CPU

Manufacturer:  Leopard Armor

  Location:    Terra

Communications System:  Teldon 35

Targeting & Tracking System:  Scope 90 RDNST with Targeting Module

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

==Overview:==

The Word of Blake needed a fast and cheap spotter design for their various

deadly C3i Level IIs. After looking at more than 6 designs from the arms

manufacturers on Terra, they settled for Leopard Armor's submission.

Named Fornax, or 'furnace', the new design is a symbol of the Word of Blake's

commitment to cleanse humanity in the fiery cauldron of bloody war.

==Capabilities:==

The Fornax is well equipped for its spotting duties. Equipped with jump jets

for a 210 meter jumping distance, and 5 tons of ferro-fibrous armor, the

Fornax can sustain and evade all but the most accurate and heavy weaponry.

The centerpiece of the design rests in the improved C3 computer module mounted

in the right torso. Linked to 5 other C3i mechs, the Fornax can help them

acquire and target opponents with incredible ease.

Its own offensive weaponry is also very impressive. 4 medium lasers tied into

a targeting computer offer excellent striking power and the opportunity to

finish off mechs damaged by the firepower of its comrades with a few well

placed shots.

Without a vulnerable extra-light engine, the Fornax is also extremely durable,

which eases maintainence and repair.

==Deployment==

The Fornax looked to be mainstay of the Word of Blake's forces, but only 20

were produced before the allied forces descended on Terra in Operation Grand

Slam.

Leopard Armor has since been producing prodigous numbers of the mech for the

Star League and Comstar. Comstar has sent the mech mostly to units along the

clan front, where their advanced C3 capabilities can nullify the range

advantages of most clan weapons.

--------------------------------------------------------

Type/Model:    Fornax FRN-2X

Mass:          40 tons

Equipment:                                 Crits    Mass

Int. Struct.:  67 pts Endo Steel            14      2.00

 (Endo Steel Loc: 4 LA, 4 RA, 2 LT, 4 RT)

Engine:        280 Fusion                    6     16.00

   Walking MP:   7

   Running MP:  11

   Jumping MP:   7

Heat Sinks:     10 Double [20]               0       .00

Gyro:                                        4      3.00

Cockpit, Life Supt.:                         5      3.00

Actuators: L: Sh+UA+LA+H    R: Sh+UA+LA+H   16       .00

Armor Factor:   90 pts Ferro-Fibrous        14      5.00

 (Armor Crit Loc: 2 LA, 2 RA, 3 LT, 3 RT, 2 LL, 2 RL)

                          Internal    Armor

                          Structure   Value

   Head:                      3          9      

   Center Torso:             12         15      

   Center Torso (Rear):                  4      

   L/R Side Torso:           10      10/10      

   L/R Side Torso (Rear):              3/3      

   L/R Arm:                   6        8/8      

   L/R Leg:                  10      10/10      

Weapons and Equipment    Loc  Heat  Ammo   Crits    Mass

--------------------------------------------------------

2 Medium Lasers          RT      6           2      2.00

2 Medium Lasers          LT      6           2      2.00

1 Improved C³ CPU        LT      0           2      2.50

1 Targeting Computer     HD                  1      1.00

7 Standard Jump Jets:                        7      3.50

 (Jump Jet Loc: 3 LT, 3 RT, 1 CT)

--------------------------------------------------------

TOTALS:                         12          73     40.00

Crits & Tons Left:                           5       .00

Calculated Factors:

Total Cost:        5,094,694 C-Bills

Battle Value:      1,049  (+77 for C³)

Cost per BV:       4,856.71

Weapon Value:      593 / 593 (Ratio = .57 / .57)

Damage Factors:    SRDmg = 18;  MRDmg = 3;  LRDmg = 0

BattleForce2:      MP: 7J,  Armor/Structure: 2/3

                   Damage PB/M/L: 3/2/-,  Overheat: 0

                   Class: MM;  Point Value: 11

                   Specials: c3i


	6. Meronac

_I was never the athletic type, but due to the physical requirements for graduating in the NAIS, I had to take up a sport, any sport._

Most of the people in the medical faculty went for bowling, golf, or some other sedentary game that was technically a sport, but didn't involve anything physical, at least to me. It was adhering to the letter of the law while breaking the spirit.

_I wanted to get into a real sport, and I thought it'll be interesting anyway. But I avoided team sports like basketball, soccer, and rugby, not least because I got beaten up bad during high school in every game I tried. I couldn't help being a wuss._

_I could have gone for the martial arts, but let's face it. Most of those people who went in had already trained in their arts since youth. I wasn't planning to be a live practice dummy either._

_So it was with some trepidation that I finally decided on fencing. A real sport since it made me sweat, it was also less painful, or so I thought._

_I was surprised when I took to it like a duck to water. I was pretty good, enough to help Coach Sandoval lead our team to victory over the NAMA in the '59 tourney._

_It was also something a certain military cadet at the NAMA, my rival for Clarice's affections, never forgot._

-_Collected Letters to Ian Calderon_, Frank Meronac

_Avalon City, New Avalon,_

_Crucis March, Federated Suns_

_15th August 3068_

"Ouch!" Frank yelped as he was struck again in the chest. The bruise there burned itself into his awareness. He felt a bit like fainting, but he forced himself to stay alert.

"Give it up, Frank," His enemy in front of him said, "It'll be better for all of us if you would just tell us what we needed to know."

"No way," Frank retorted, hoping he could back up his bravado in the face of torture.

"Then feel my sting of my blade."

Moments later, a steel tip poked Frank in the stomach. Though there was padding over his stomach, it still hurt.

"Owww…" Frank groaned as he dropped his foil and stepped back, clutching his aching stomach as he fell back tiredly to the mat. "How come you keep aiming for my stomach?"

"Touché." Duke Tancred Sandoval sighed as he lifted his faceplate, only breathing slightly harder than normal. "Frank, you have really regressed since I last saw you. I know you're better than this."

Frank used one hand to lift up his own faceplate, and gasped hungrily for air in the dry gym. He waved his hand in a gesture of surrender. "Forget it. I haven't been practicing much, and I don't have the time anyway. I knew this was a bad idea the moment you invited me for practice."

Tancred grinned, "You're not getting away that easily, Frank. How about some more info on what you found in the Periphery?"

"Sorry, coach. No way I'm giving that away for free," said Frank. "Now, how about giving me a chance with epee rules instead?" Epee rules permitted full body targeting, while foil rules, which they were presently using, allowed only torso hits.

"No way," Tancred shook his head, "You still managed to score a hit."

"While you got five points in return," Frank pointed out.

"Well, think of it as incentive to improve. Now get up, and let's go at it again."

Frank sighed in defeat, "Okay, just give me a moment to catch my breath."

Tancred asked, "Didn't your mechwarrior training toughen you up? You shouldn't be out of breath so quickly."

"I'm fitter than before," Frank agreed, "But considering that I'm expending more energy on inefficient moves just on defense, I'm actually no better off than before."

"Yes." Tancred nodded slowly. "You were swinging pretty wildly on that last conversation."

"Epee rules for me then, coach?" Frank asked hopefully as he stood up from the mat, doffing his mask and taking up his foil.

"No," Tancred's smile was visible for an instant before he placed his own mask back on, "It's been too long since I've had a real challenge." He executed his signature slash to start off the match.

Frank groaned inwardly as he went _en garde_. Tancred Sandoval was still the undisputed fencing champion in the Federated Suns, if not the entire Inner Sphere, with all three weapons. There were supposedly a few specialists with even better skills in the foil and the saber in the Lyran Commonwealth and the Free Worlds League, but nobody was Tancred Sandoval's peer in the epee.

Frank knew he wasn't so bad himself, and even Tancred had commented that he had more potential if only he would apply himself, but right now, his lack of practice was showing.

Sandoval swept in with a direct attack. Frank did not dodge, and parried while watching for the feint. Tancred swept his sword down to change the line of attack, while Frank kept his own weapon pressed against his opponent's to carry out an envelopment, sweeping the two blades out to his right.

Tancred stepped back before Frank could complete the move, disengaging his blade. Frank took the opportunity to attack.

They swapped attacks for a whole minute, neither able to score a point. Frank realized belatedly that he was fighting better than in the previous match. _Seems like I needed some time to get back up to speed_, he thought.

He finally managed to land a blow on Tancred's chest. "Point!" Frank shouted, then stepped back, panting hard. Both men pulled up their facemasks for a short respite. Frank knew he had pasted a wide grin on his face at his unexpected success.

"Not bad, Frank," Tancred said, now panting equally as heavily, "This is what I knew you could do all along."

Frank nodded in acknowledgement. "Still not as good as you are."

"Don't be so sure."

Fifteen minutes later, Frank laid on his back, his arms spread on the floor, wheezing with his tongue hanging out. Tancred sat exhaustedly on a bench, sipping from a bottle of sports drink.

Tancred had won by 5 points to Frank's 4.

"If you can just train intensively for another year, you can take over my position as champion." Tancred was saying. "You know, you could take up a position at the NAIS as a faculty member to teach science and fencing."

"No way," Frank waved his right hand in the air in surrender, "Too busy." He was so tired that he could barely string more than two words together.

"Too busy? Well, you could always hand over all the information on the alien technology to us."

Having recovered enough of his breath back, Frank sat up, and looked at Tancred in the eye. "If I could, I would. But I have obligations to the other mercs, and we all agreed to share the wealth. I can't just give you the info, not without getting something in return."

"Frank, you were born in the Federated Suns. That has got to count for something. What you found could be crucial to our recovery after the civil war."

Frank shook his head. "I really can't." He had his obligation to the other mercs, and he also knew that his future depended a great deal on whether he was able to amass enough money, hopefully enough to purchase a noble's title in the Federated Suns.

Tancred said, "How about a barony in the Crucis March?" _That _got Frank's attention.

He continued, "I know what you want, Frank. We have an intel dossier on you and every Federated Suns-born merc who survived the Falcons and the drones. You didn't want to be a mechwarrior in the first place. It was only because Duke Ferguson did not approve of your relationship to Clarice that forced you to go to Outreach to try to get a fortune. And with a hefty sum of money, you thought you could buy a noble's title and land. With a noble's title in hand, Duke Ferguson would have no objections to your marriage proposal."

"Where did you come by this?" asked Frank. He was more than a bit miffed that Tancred would pull this move. It was something he had half expected all along, but he had tried not to think about it, since he couldn't be sure of his answer. After all, it was very, very tempting.

Tancred sighed, "It was all so obvious. I am your coach during your time here, after all, and it doesn't take a genius to see what was going on."

"And before you blame Tancred for it, it was my idea," Princess-Regent Yvonne Davion entered the gym, dressed in a working suit.

Frank scrambled to his feet. "Your Highness," he bowed respectfully in greeting.

"Hi, Tancred," Yvonne smiled as she hugged Tancred for a moment. "Did you win the match?"

"By the barest of margins."

"If you took the scores of both matches, it won't even be close." Frank pointed out.

"Modest as always, Frank." Yvonne said as she sat down beside Tancred. "I remember the time when you had three matches with me, at a targeting handicap, and didn't even concede a point."

"Considering that Tancred could beat me silly," Frank nodded to Tancred, "I'm in no position to brag."

Ten years ago, Frank remembered, they were just a group of students attending Tancred Sandoval's fencing course. There was him, Clarice, Eddie, and of course, Yvonne.

Now Yvonne was the Princess-Regent of the entire Federated Suns, Tancred her fiancé and Duke of the Draconis March. Eddie a major with the Davion Guards, Clarice a doctor making her mark in the NAIS. The rest of the class were all establishing what appeared to be successful careers.

_And me, what am I doing?_ Frank thought. _Just a mercenary soldier, one without a future? _He shook his head slightly. _No, dammit! I can do this. Get my share of money from the sale of the data or from merc contracts, buy a title, marry Clarice, and then I can settle down to practice medicine and do research on the side. No need to go around all my life strapped to a fusion reactor._

"So how about the offer?" Yvonne asked him. "All you ever wanted, there for the taking. Just give us as much of the data from the alien base as you can pilfer out."

Frank closed his eyes. It was all so tempting. He wanted to say yes, to agree, but then he recalled how they got the data in the first place.

The initial discovery of the _Spidercrab_s, the days of fighting with the Falcons, Descartin's arrival, searching for the alien base. The appearance of the rest of the drone forces, the final battle. Deserk's last ride, in the glaring blaze of an orbital bombardment.

No, I can't do it. Not after what so many people sacrificed for the data. It doesn't just belong to me. It belonged to everybody who fought on Einstein, to all those who died.

Frank opened his eyes, and he said, "Sorry, but no deal. I wish there was some other way too, but there isn't." As he spoke, he was thinking of this one sentence pissing away his own future. But he couldn't see any other choice. Not if he was going to stick to his principles.

"What about the Federated Suns? That technology could help a lot of people," said Tancred. But Frank was not fooled.

_Playing on my loyalties to the Suns? Sorry, but no go either. _"I've already given enough to the Federated Suns. There's no way I'm going to just give you the data." Frank gritted his teeth. He was tired from the match, and the last thing he really wanted was Yvonne and Tancred pressing him on the issue.

Tancred seemed resigned. "We understand." He exchanged glances with Yvonne. "But we had to try."

Frank let out a long breath. "I understand too. For you, the Federated Suns comes first." He shrugged. "I'm just glad you didn't use other methods to make me agree." In other words, torture.

"That would have made me no different from Katherine," said Yvonne with a slight tinge of anger.

Frank recalled the year when Katherine was using a variety of methods to try to force Yvonne from the regency of the Federated Suns. Everybody had fallen for her schemes, and in the end Yvonne had been made to relinquish her regency.

And what that led to, was painfully obvious to any citizen of the Federated Commonwealth.

"I really wish I could do something for you and Clarice, but…" Yvonne held out her hands in frustration.

Tancred picked up for her, "Censuring Duke Ferguson for what is a private matter wouldn't go over well with the other nobles in court."

"Is he that powerful?" Frank asked.

Yvonne answered him, "Well, considering the large amount of political support he built up in the Outback worlds, and which he used to help us during the civil war, there's nothing we can do to him without incurring a great deal of opposition from his supporters."

Frank shook his head sadly, "I wasn't expecting any favors from you, but thanks for thinking about it anyway."

Tancred placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't lose heart, Frank. Your original plan was a good one. You may yet succeed."

"Yeah, I hope so too."

"Oh, right," Yvonne said, "I almost forgot. You asked me to check the House Davion family archives for the symbol you wanted, and I just got the results."

"What did you find?" The pyramid with an eye inside it was an enigma to Frank. He had gone through the NAIS database, but nothing was found. Asking Yvonne to go through the private Davion archives was his last idea. Thankfully, Yvonne did not ask for anything for return, because they thought it was essentially a trivial matter.

Yvonne's pretty face was puzzled as she said, "The symbol did show on the archive menu, but the entry itself was blank."

"A blank entry? That doesn't seem very likely," said Tancred.

"But that was exactly what I got." Yvonne protested. "I asked the historians about it, but none of them had heard of it either. I asked a tech to look through the records, and it turned out that the somebody tampered with the entry just before the 1st Succession War. It was probably erased at that time."

Chills ran up Frank's spine. "Somebody erased it? Is that possible?"

"Certainly, if they could slip past our security." Tancred frowned. "It was probably such a small matter that nobody bothered. After all, they all had more important things on their minds at the time."

"Frank, just how important is this symbol?" Yvonne asked.

"I don't know." Frank admitted. "All I know is that somebody, or some organization, knew of the alien base, and led us by the nose to it. Who were these people, and what do they want? How much else do they know?" He slammed a fist into a palm. "Dammit, there're so many questions left, and this symbol's one of the biggest clues we have to getting the answers."

"Well, wherever and whoever these people are, they are probably not to be trifled with," said Tancred. "So what other plans do you have?"

Frank sighed, "I'm not sure. I did get some of the questions answered, but they all seemed to point to Terra. The Pyramids were first constructed by the ancient Egyptians in Africa, and then later on some people thought it was a swell idea and built them on worlds they had colonized."

"So are you going to Terra?" Yvonne asked.

Frank blinked, "Terra? Uh, I don't think so. I don't quite believe that such an organization would operate under the Word of Blake's nose. I mean, Comstar and Word of Blake would have known about them if they were on Terra." He paused for a moment. "Wouldn't they?"

Tancred rubbed his chin. "Nothing is so certain, especially when we know next to nothing about them. I wouldn't rule out Terra so quickly."

"Ah hell," Frank cursed bitterly, "I don't know what's more silly. My trying to hunt down this secret organization all on my own, or the idea of going to Terra." He shuddered. "I'll stay clear of the Wobblies."

"Frank," said Tancred, "If you feel it is that important, then you should see this thing through to its end. But if not, then it doesn't matter much. Whoever is behind this probably isn't a threat to the Inner Sphere, and nobody will care much if you don't find them either."

Frank nodded. Tancred did have a point. It didn't really matter if they found the masterminds or not. He supposed there were better things for him to do on New Avalon before Doc Banzai was ready to go with him to Einstein.

Like doing research. Relaxing. Spending more time with Clarice. _Hmm…_ he thought, _definitely spending more time with Clarice. _Hopefully, her father won't find out, or he was about to be skinned again.

And her father wasn't the only person he might have to watch out for, he reminded himself.

"What do you think?" Tancred asked Victor Davion as they met in one of the many private conference rooms in the palace. They had tapped the entire conversation in the gym, and Victor had listened in from the room.

Even though Victor was no longer Prince of the Federated Suns, he was still allowed a great deal of latitude. In fact, members of the Davion Brigade of Guards still called him 'Highness', no matter how often he told them not to.

"He's on the level." Victor said firmly. "I don't doubt him in the least."

"Then the Star League and alien technology?"

Victor frowned, "It's not really that important. After all, the technology could be bought in due time. All the Houses have already purchased what's on offer at Outreach, and so has Comstar and the Word of Blake. And there'll be more. No, what's more important is the question of who set the mercenaries up in the first place."

As the Precentor Martial of Comstar and the elder brother of the rulers of the Federated Suns and the Lyran Commonwealth, Victor was privy to many secrets, but nothing as strange as the conundrum which had stumped Frank Meronac. The eye in the pyramid spoke of hidden power and knowledge, perhaps degrees of magnitude greater even than Comstar's. Victor was worried about what that might portend. If that knowledge fell into the Word of Blake's hands…

He was sure that the Word of Blake did not know anything of this, or else the alien technology would already be in their hands. Something that he really did not like to see happen. At least with the open sale of the data from the alien world by the MIB, everybody was on equal footing.

"Did you find anything on your side?" Tancred was understandably worried about the mastermind organization. Nothing about them had been found in MIIO's files, and he hoped that Comstar might have better luck.

While Victor wasn't very sure of his own findings, he nodded slowly, "I did find something."

Tancred leaned forward in his seat eagerly. "What was that?"

Victor said, "It was only a very short entry, but it was pretty telling in its own way. The symbol was the insignia, emblem, whatever you want to call it, of the Illuminati, literally, the bearers of light. Supposedly, they were an organization that arose in the 18th century in Terra Europe. There was nothing else in the entry."

"That can't be right. That's so long ago!"

"My thoughts exactly," Victor agreed. "But who can tell if they're still around? There was no other information on their purpose, their history, or how they disappeared, if that was what happened to them."

He continued, "One thing is for sure, that if any answers are to be found, they can only be found on Terra."

"You mean you do want to send somebody to Terra to check it out?"

Victor shrugged, "I doubt the Word of Blake would like Comstar agents on Terra. Or MIIO agents, for that matter. However, there _is_ somebody we can send there. Who has a stake in all this already, and the best part of it is that he's essentially a neutral."

"Frank Meronac."

"Yes. There's no reason for the Word of Blake to deny him entry when he could go there as a simple tourist."

Tancred scoffed. "And the fact that he's an important member of the Mercs in Black? What's to prevent the Word of Blake from just grabbing him and turning him?"

"A change of name, and a simple database addition to the citizen registry files should be sufficient there," Victor answered. "While I'm sure ROM keeps track of the agents we have, I doubt they will be so vigilant about a mere NAIS doctor."

"Victor, one more thing," Tancred noted.

"And that is?"

"Why would he want to go in the first place?" Tancred folded his arms. "He's made it clear that he wants nothing better than to stay on New Avalon until he gets recalled to Outreach or Einstein."

"I think I can make it worth his while," Victor said, as a plan came to him. Comstar had been trying to find out what the Blakists were doing on Terra, without much success, and here was an opportunity to kill two birds with a single stone. While Victor had an ace up his sleeve, he did not want to jeopardize that highly ranked operative without a really good reason, which was also why he did not mention it to Tancred. Only he and Focht knew who that operative was.

So he was left with Frank Meronac. Victor hated doing this, but he could hardly see any other choice here. Not if they needed to find out more about the Illuminati, not if he needed to know what was happening on Terra.

_Just a gamble with the life of a good man, _Victor thought again unhappily.

"Well, so that was how I managed to survive the Periphery," Frank said to his audience of enthralled listeners around the table as he finished his tale.

Eddie shook his head in disbelief. "Wow, that was some adventure you had. Almost makes me wish I had gone with you. Almost."

His girlfriend Sophia Langford looked at him sternly, "Eddie, do you want to get yourself killed? The civil war was bad enough." She turned to Frank, "One thing I just don't get. How _did_ you survive so many fights?"

Frank shuddered visibly as he finished off the last of his ice cream dessert. "I was lucky. Simple as that. Damn lucky. A lot of good men died out there." He thought of Deserk, Captain Vansen, and all those warriors, mercenary and Jade Falcon, who had paid the ultimate price during their war against each other, and later against the drones.

"Well, just be glad that you're still alive. I know I am." Clarice added as she squeezed one of his hands reassuringly.

Frank smiled weakly, "Yeah, I guess so."

Eddie had organized the double date at the pizza house, and they had just finished their dinner while Frank regaled them with tales of his life so far as a mercenary.

Obviously, he had left out certain details. Details that all the mercs, and even their buyers, had agreed to censor from the official account. As much as he wanted to tell his close friends the true story, he couldn't.

And their overall plan was coming along quite well. Ian had already told him of his initial contacts in the Taurian Concordat, and it seemed that the outlook was favorable. However, Frank was a bit worried because he thought he could detect signs of apprehension in Ian's letter. About what, though, he had no idea.

Meanwhile, Descartin Winters had reached Luthien safely, and he had sent only a short message that he wasn't able to find the man he was looking for, and staying for the moment on Luthien. Frank was puzzled when he had received two messages, one from Descartin, and one from Yoshino. Apparently, they had separated, and while Yoshino was looking for Descartin, Descartin seemed adamant to stay away, not even giving hints of his present location on the Black Pearl. _Well,_ Frank thought, _at least he's not in any trouble. I hope._

"So," Clarice brought him back to his immediate surroundings, "How long are you staying here?" Her voice carried hints of worry, which was completely understandable because they all knew as a mercenary, Frank would probably be caught up in fighting again.

"I don't know," he admitted. "It all depends on how our reorganization is going. Once Colonel Feehan can get one regiment up and running, I'll probably have to head back to Outreach. I think it'll be at least three more months before we're ready to take on contracts as a unified merc unit."

"Well, provided you can find any contracts at all," Eddie said. "Things are very quiet nowadays."

"You prefer the mess of the previous few years?" Clarice asked.

Eddie shook his head, "Of course not. Just stating a fact. I just feel very bored right now."

"Hey, Eddie," said Frank, "You could always quit the AFFS and join me as a merc."

They all blinked for two seconds, before Sophia protested, "No way!" She stared at Eddie, "I'll dump you if you do go off like that," she warned.

Eddie gulped, "Okay, okay. I promise I'll not go with Frank. I won't even think of it. Happy?"

"Oooh, big bad mechwarrior is actually a cuckolded man who submits to his girlfriend's every whim!" Frank grinned.

"Oh yeah, and you're not?" Clarice asked with a smirk.

Frank took a look at her, saw the implied threat, and said in a small voice, "Point taken."

They all laughed at that.

An hour later, they left the pizza house. Eddie and Sophia departed together, while Frank waited beside Clarice's car in the car park while she went to the washroom.

Frank glanced up at the night sky, admiring the stars he could see despite the glow from the city lights. It had a been a good day, and he looked forward to the rest of his time on New Avalon.

Suddenly, he felt something _wrong_, and he turned his eyes back to his surroundings. His senses were screaming at him, but he wasn't sure what was wrong.

"Hi there Frank," a voice spoke, which sent Frank spinning around to face it.

A dark figure stepped out from a darkened corner. Frank didn't need to see him to know who he was. He could recognize the voice.

"Jacques Viler." Frank said. "Fancy meeting you here."

Jacques was taller than Frank, had blond hair, and was extremely athletic. He was a renowned mechwarrior in the Crucis Lancers, and he wore a lieutenant colonel's rank insignia.

He was also Frank's rival for Clarice's affections, a noble by birth, and a NAMA graduate cum laude. Furthermore, he had Duke Ferguson on his side. Clarice's father had firmly believed that Clarice would be better off with Jacques than with Frank, and every one of their encounters had been colored by that fact. It didn't help that they all knew that in the ways that mattered to Duke Ferguson, Jacques was in every way the better man.

Other than Clarice and fencing, Frank had never beaten Jacques in anything, and he was getting a bit worried in the deserted car park. He thought, _he couldn't be spoiling for a fight, could he?_

The only time Frank had beaten him was in the fencing competition back in 3059. Frank had won by the slimmest of margins, and he knew Jacques had never forgiven him for that, just as he had never forgotten that Clarice had chosen Frank instead. It was a quiet seething hate that sent shivers up Frank's spine whenever he met Jacques. In some way, Frank knew he had it coming to him.

Frank tried to keep his voice light as he asked, "So, had dinner already?"

"Yeah," Jacques replied as he walked nearer, "I had mine. I was a bit surprised to see you here. I thought you'll be a rotting corpse in the Periphery by now."

Frank tried to ignore the churning sensation in his stomach as the other man walked up. "I got lucky."

"So you're back to put the moves on my girl?" Jacques asked with a tinge of anger.

"What do you mean, put the moves on your girl?" Frank retorted, "Clarice isn't your girl any more than she's mine. She made her choice, and I think you should respect that."

"Yeah?" Jacques asked. "Then respect this!" Jacques swung his fist in a swift arc towards Frank's head.

Frank had been watching for the attack, but he was still shocked by the move. _Whatever happened to plain talking?_

Frank stumbled backwards to avoid the blow, and he fell butt-first onto the floor. He continued to tumble backwards to carry himself out of range, before standing up several meters away.

"Woah!" Frank exclaimed, "We don't have to fight about this! Can't we just talk it over?"

Jacques had closed the distance with frightening speed, and he smiled as he replied, "No. This is something I'll enjoy."

Frank managed to block the first few punches, but Jacques moved in and kneed him in the stomach, which sent Frank doubled over and gasping for breath.

He couldn't remember anything else for the next few moments, only an incessant torrent of pain. He barely noticed when it stopped, and he realized belatedly that Jacques had stopped beating him when he felt Jacques grab his hair with one hand and lifted up his head from the ground.

He squinted through swollen eyes at his assailant's sneering face, as Jacques spoke, "Compliments of me and Duke Ferguson. In other words, Meronac, stay away from Clarice as we told you last year. Or else you'll have to look forward to seeing me more often." He then put Frank's head down on the ground.

The next thing Frank knew, he was in Clarice's apartment.

"Yowch! That hurts!" Frank yelped and jerked as Clarice swabbed one of his many wounds with antiseptic soaked cotton.

"Stay still. You know as well as I do that the pain means that the medicine's working." Clarice scolded. "How did you get into a fight with Jacques? You should know better than that."

"A fight?" Frank rolled his eyes, "It was a slaughter. I didn't ask for a fight. He just walked up to me and gave me a beating. Not that I'm unfamiliar with beatings, mind you."

Not the first time, Frank cursed himself for being a wimp in a fistfight. Sure, he could fight pretty well if he had something in his hands, but bare knuckled combat always ended badly for him. He had plenty of experience with _that_ in his high school days.

"Do you want to make a report?" Clarice asked. "I mean, he practically assaulted you."

"Well, at least he didn't try to kill me." Frank pointed out. He remembered Jacques' last words, "And I think your father could probably buck any call against Jacques. He hates me that much."

Clarice said brokenly, "I'm sorry, Frank. I didn't think that they'll resort to this."

Frank tried to crack a grin, "Hey, don't worry, I'm used to it." He winced briefly as a spasm of pain hit him. "Maybe I should have heeded their warning last year and stayed away instead."

"Well, I don't care for these bully tactics," she said firmly, "I'm going to tell my father to stay away, or else…"

"Or else what?" Frank asked tiredly. "There's not much we can do. Blame it on the system." He smiled weakly to reassure her. "Don't worry. I'll prove your father wrong. Just be patient."

"How're the preparations coming along?" The female officer asked her subordinate. "Are the men ready for action?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he answered, "We're as ready as we can be. We only need the word to move out."

She nodded in satisfaction. Yes, they're as ready as they could be to take down Victor Davion once and for all, in a perverse way fulfilling the orders given to them by Katrina Steiner back when the Civil War started.

If only she didn't feel so trapped. Not for the first time, she regretted ever using the nuclear weapons on Axton, and then Marlette, which had inexorably brought her to this moment, where she had no other choice but to kill Davion.

There was the other choice, of course. She could refuse the commands given to her by her new masters, but they could simply reveal the location of her unit to the Federated Suns, and she knew that a war crimes trial would not be far away if that happened.

Her men deserved better. Every single one of them deserved better. If she had thought putting all the blame on herself would help exonerate them for their participation in the disasters on Axton and Marlette, she would have given herself up back on Marlette.

But in the end, it didn't matter. Somebody had offered her a way out on Marlette, and like a fool she had taken it, not realizing that she had walked into a well orchestrated trap.

She still didn't know who her masters were, but she was quite sure they were from the Word of Blake, though she had no proof. All they wanted was for her unit to kill Victor at an opportune moment. Or else, they would turn her and her troops over to the Federated Suns authorities.

It had come down to this, a single strike against Avalon City with a reinforced battalion of mechs and two combat commands. Kill Precentor Martial Victor Davion, and get out. Her masters had promised that with that accomplished, the survivors would be given new identities in the periphery and allowed to live their own lives.

She admitted to herself that there was no better moment for such an assault. With the end of the civil war, the military of the Federated Suns had been greatly diminished, and even now there were only two mech regiments on New Avalon.

They were only two jumps away, in transports marked as civilian ships. The plan called for them to drop right on top of Avalon City, kill their target, and pull out. It was an extremely simple plan, one that had every chance of success. The use of nuclear weapons would not be needed, and she shuddered at the thought of using them in a populated city like Avalon City.

It was that, or death by trial and execution. Not much choice there. She steeled herself. There was nothing to do but to walk the path laid out in front of her. All that was needed was her command to proceed.

"Move out," ordered Annette Leyland of the 5th Federated Commonwealth RCT.

Hmmm… I didn't think I'll be able to write so quickly, between my exams and all. Just don't expect this too often, okay? I tend to be conservative in my estimates.

For those who have no idea who Annette Leyland was, check out the Fed-Com Civil War sourcebook, specifically the combat entries for Axton and Marlette. Needless to say, chapter 9 would be very, very bloody. An opponent with nothing to lose is the most fearsome opponent of all.

Poor Frank. He never gets a break, eh? I think he's just about the first character in BT fandom to get beaten up so frequently. Don't worry, Jacques Viler will get his comeuppance at the end of the novel. But first, things for Frank will get a great deal worse. Hehehehehe…

As for the Illuminati, yup, I've finally said it. But what is the connection? I'm not saying yet.

The operative Victor was thinking about? Wait and see, though hints in the canon fiction were quite clear. Actually, it's more a matter of my personal interpretation of events in the canon.

I really appreciate all those reviews so far. Especially those claiming I'm the best writer on ff.net. I'll try harder to live up to those expectations. Pant, pant. Also, I would like everybody to review more often. You know, impetus for writing and all that. And not just my fics. There're others on ff.net that are also very good.

In any case, we can always claim we have better fics than W40K, CBT's perennial competitor! Funny how BT fans are more, shall we say, articulate than W40K fans. :D

Next chapter is back to Descartin Winters on Luthien. Just how would a clanner react to a roller coaster ride? Would he throw up? Scream in fear? Cry like a baby?

Find out in a month's time!


	7. Winters

_I had no idea what I was getting into when I saw Yoshino after so many years. The first things that came to my mind was possibly swindling him of his fortune, which I had kept… tabs on. The second was the pretty woman who was with them. The third thing was the presence of the clanner._

_In all my years with the DCMS, I had never met anyone like Descartin Winters, even for the short time we spent talking in the teahouse. It wasn't that he frightened me. It was more that he felt like an over pressured dam, just waiting to burst._

_The Dragon help whoever causes that dam to break, because I have a very bad feeling when that happens._

_Of course, I didn't like it when Yoshino literally drafted me into looking for Winters. Come to think of it though, that probably saved my life later on. I sure didn't want to get left behind on Luthien for an honorable death._

_-Life with the Rat Pack, Tai-sa_ Ryo Saeba

_Imperial City, Luthien_

_Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine_

_19th August 3068_

The alarm clock went off, but Descartin was already awake, staring at the ceiling of his small room. He reached out with a hand to silence the ringing machine, but he remained on his bed.

He stared up at the small blue and green dragons decorating the ceiling. Somehow, this was not what he expected of a room that was supposed to be an infant's nursery. Nevertheless, the small crib in a corner of the room gave ample evidence of its future use.

For the past few days, he had been staying with the Tanaka family. They had a small shophouse with living space above the shop, while the rest of the block above it was given over to cheap residence. It was small by any standard, but they did not seem unhappy about it.

Every morning, he would wake up to a breakfast prepared by Atasushi's sister and her husband. It was almost invariably bread of some sort, but Descartin did not mind, since the bread every morning was different.

And indeed it should be, because they owned a small bakery. Bread of all flavors, of all shapes and sizes. There was bread with raisins in them, bread with pieces of pork floss on top, bread with their insides stuffed with cream. There was some cake as well, though not as much in demand as the bread. Descartin could not figure it out, though he assumed that the tastes of the locals ran more towards bread rather than cakes.

It made Descartin's head spin the first time he woke up to the bewildering array of food. The fragrant smell of the bread did not help, an unfamiliar miasma of scents that he had never experienced, not even in his years among the clans.

Even in the room, he could smell them already, imagining the bread steaming hot off the ovens. The bread shop would be opening for business soon, and Atasushi would be picking him up in a car for work.

The past few days had been… interesting. Descartin had been at a loss at what to do at first, but Daisuke had squared him away quickly. There were only two rules, he was told. One, keep an eye out for possible trouble. Two, ensure that the Duchess was safe and comfortable.

Between him, Daisuke, and Atasushi, there had been no other incidences like that day in the alley, though Irene's new found wariness of dark passages had a lot to do with that. Descartin found himself more of a companion to Irene than an actual bodyguard, though he made sure to still watch their surroundings carefully for problems.

The day after he was hired, he had been brought on a shopping trip. Irene had said tit was to buy normal clothes for him, but ended up buying much, much more than that. In the end, because neither Daisuke nor Atasushi could be drawn away from their official bodyguard duties(he thought it was a poor excuse anyway), Descartin had been the one to carry heap upon heap of boxes from the commercial district.

He remembered hearing sympathetic passer-bys remarking about overbearing girlfriends and overworked boyfriends, which brought an involuntary blush to his face. Irene had been tickled silly by that incident, and she had began treating him as if they _were_ attached.

Descartin hoped she was just joking.

He washed up, and changed into his clothes. Having worn combat ready jumpsuits for the massive bulk of his life, he still felt uneasy wearing ordinary civilian clothing. Today he decided on a plain white shirt and a pair of brown pants, reasoning that his role was to look as inconspicuous as possible. After changing, he opened the door just in time to see Koji Tanaka clamber up the rickety stairs from the shop.

"_Konnichi-wa_, Winters-_sama_," the Japanese man greeted him with a ready smile. "Breakfast is ready, and Atasushi will be here soon to pick you up. Come on and have some food!"

Descartin nodded thankfully. Atasushi's brother-in-law Koji was one of the most guileless men he had ever met. Nobody could ever accuse Koji of brilliance, but he had an unguarded optimism that was infectious. Atasushi had remarked quite often about how his sister had been lucky to marry Koji.

They went to the small dining room, trading small talk. As they reached the round eating table, Koji's wife Maeko was already waiting for them. Like most Japanese women, she was quiet and demure, often deferring to others. However, she had a presence and an insistent way about her that spoke of hidden strength and character.

She smiled as they walked up, and greeted Descartin. Koji grinned back at her, and they settled down for breakfast.

Twenty minutes later, Descartin helped Koji out with the opening of the bakery, holding cartons of bread and arranging them on the shelves. He had nothing better to do while waiting for Atasushi anyway.

"_Domo arigato_, Winters-_sama_," Koji said as they finished. "I am sorry for making you help us do our work. You are our guest…"

"Nothing to it," Descartin waved it off. "It is good to help people. Accrues good karma."

"Descartin, I didn't know you believe in this sort of thing," Atasushi said as he entered the shop. "_Konnichi wa_, Koji-_kun_." He bowed his head slightly and quickly to his brother-in-law.

Koji bowed in return, rather more respectfully, as he belonged to a lower social class. Nevertheless, Descartin could sense that both men were at ease with each other, and did not really need such expressions of formality.

"Ready to go, Descartin?"

"Aff." He turned to Koji, "Goodbye, Koji. I wish you good business." Koji smiled in reply. Their bread business was always good. In fact, Descartin remembered with dread a stampede one morning from a mob of housewives when Maeko debuted a new type of bread filling.

That morning, he had nearly been flattened by the mob as they charged into the shop. An ignoble fate for any warrior, clan or not.

It was a short drive to the imperial palace, where they would pick up the Duchess and Daisuke. The streets were already starting to bustle with people, as Combine citizens hurried to work.

"So what are the plans for today?" Descartin asked. Most of the time, there was not any, since Irene Manson seemed to make impromptu decisions about the visit for the day, but he figured that it did not hurt to ask.

"Well, there's a traveling carnival from the Magistracy of Canopus. The Duchess says it's a lot of fun, and she wants to go there." Atasushi rolled his eyes. "Daisuke and me tried to dissuade her, but she insisted. Also, there'll be somebody else joining us today."

Atasushi's tone suddenly turned deadly serious. "Descartin, I'm really glad you're with us, since you've given us another pair of eyes. The extra person we have is very, very important, and no harm must ever come to him. So I want you to be on your most alert state."

"I am always alert." Descartin chewed on it for a while, before asking, "Then why not a few more guards?"

Atasushi shook his head, "Too conspicuous. Right now, even the ISF doesn't know you're with us, and it wants the amount of escort to remain low in order to avoid our charges from standing out."

Descartin shook his head slowly. The convoluted logic of the Inner Sphere still made his head hurt at times. How difficult would it be to have a few discreet guards standing around?

_No, _he realized suddenly, _there will be other guards around, only that we are _not_ supposed to know about them._ He glanced at Atasushi. _No, Atasushi must know as well, or at the very least, he suspects so._

Descartin finished his line of thought. _If we knew who those extra guards were, we might give away their position, simply with an unintended look or wayward glance. However, if we do not know, then it will be easier for them to blend in._

He nodded to himself. It was perfectly reasonable, and an excellent idea. However, it did worry him slightly. _Am I beginning to think like a spheroid?_ He wondered.

But there was one more thing he needed to know.

"Atasushi?" Descartin asked hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"What is a carnival?"

Descartin stared down at the boy in front of him. Irene beamed as she introduced the young boy to her bodyguards. For his part, the boy was very polite as he bowed deeply and respectfully to Daisuke and the others.

Irene was saying, "My friends, this is Kitsune. He's a son of my friends, and he had just returned to Luthien. Say hello to theseuncles, Kitsune." She was dressed in a simple blue blouse and jeans, for a casual look. Kitsune, like most children, wore shorts and a T-shirt.

Kitsune bowed again, "I am pleased to meet you."

Descartin could not help but notice Daisuke and Atasushi's discomfiture, as they bowed back again rather stiffly and respectfully. He also noticed that Kitsune was a great deal more well-disciplined than even clan children of his age. Of course, Descartin admitted freely his sibko was never the best behaved lot in any case.

_This is a strange child_, Descartin decided. _He could only belong to the nobility, but the question was, how high was he on the totem pole? High enough to make Daisuke and Atasushi very uncomfortable, I think._

"How do you feel about going to the carnival today, Kitsune?" Irene laid a hand gently on Kitsune's shoulder.

The boy's face lit up as he exclaimed, "Wow! Are we really going to the carnival, Obasan Isi… I mean, Irene?"

Descartin's ears perked up at the slight slip, as Irene quickly answered, "Of course we are. Kitsune, please remember my name, okay? Also, I'm not that old. Call me big sister." She leaned down and winked at Kitsune, who giggled and nodded, as the two exchanged conspiratorial looks.

Not for the first time, Descartin felt out of the loop. Now even the kid was being let in on the big secret while he was left out. How fair was that? He shook his head, while the others all smiled.

They set off in the vehicle, with Descartin sitting behind while Atasushi drove. The vehicle was a hover wagon, which allowed at least six passengers at the back. It was meant for large families, and Descartin recalled Koji and Maeko talking of buying one once they had saved up enough money, as well as the children to fill up the wagon.

As they drove through the city, Irene played some simple games with Kitsune. Scissor paper stone guessing games that even Descartin had heard of. The clans had instituted such games as good tests of anticipation and judgment. Those were good times, as he remembered the laughter and fun, even in the rigid structure of the sibko, training to be warriors.

Apparently, he had allowed his melancholy to appear on his face, because Irene suddenly asked him in a concerned tone, "Descartin, are you all right?"

Descartin said, "No, I am fine. Perfectly fine."

He hoped he sounded convincing. Irene did not seem like the type to let go easily, and she proved him right when she spoke.

"You know, after more than a week together, and I still don't know a lot about you. Maybe you could tell Kitsune about the clans."

Kitsune sat straight up upon hearing the word 'clans'. "Winters-_san_, you know about the clans?"

Strangely enough, many young boys in the Inner Sphere, he had observed on Outreach, and even on Luthien, seem enamored of the clans. Descartin privately wondered if cultural influences go both ways. He smirked, "Of course I know about the clans. I am a warrior of the clans."

Kitsune's eyes bugged out, "You are a clan war…"

"Does that frighten you, boy?" Descartin leaned forward to look Kitsune in the eye. "Before you were even born, I fought to conquer this world." He pasted a wicked grin on his face, and leaned even far forward, as though going to devour Kitsune. "I have come to finish my task."

Kitsune leaned back in fear, before Irene pinched Descartin hard on his thigh, which elicited a yelp from Descartin as he jumped in his seat, which broke the tension.

"Except, of course, that I am currently employed by a sadistic woman who loves to torture stray warriors." Descartin deadpanned.

"Don't worry, Kitsune, he's housebroken." Irene grinned, as Descartin rubbed his thigh ruefully.

Kitsune laughed in delight at his antics, while Descartin shook his head in mock dismay.

The car soon reached the carnival. Descartin, after Atasushi's explanation, was still not quite sure what a carnival was. Like many things in the Inner Sphere which revolved around the concept of entertainment, he had not the slightest idea of what it was like.

The moment he saw the twisting tracks of the roller coaster ride, Descartin felt a lump of iron sink into his stomach.

Isis grinned as she observed the grimace on Descartin's face. The idea of a member of the most fearsome warrior race bred by mankind being worried by the prospect of a carnival ride tickled her insides silly.

Because of the Draconis Combine's strict immigration laws and behavioral regulations, the famous pleasure circuses of the Magistracy of Canopus were not allowed within their borders. In an attempt to circumvent those restrictions, the Canopans took out the more… controversial aspects of their pleasure circuses, and put in more rides and game stalls. They also changed the designation to "Traveling Carnival". Such groups were slowly gaining popularity in recent years, and it was said that the carnivals might soon overtake the circuses as the Canopans' most famous export service.

Young Kitsune had pressed his face to the window, trying to get a better and closer look at the many rides and games that were visible from the road. He was excitedly shouting out the names of the rides that he knew, while Descartin seemed to be getting more and more uncomfortable with each name that he heard.

"Look, there's the Space Slingshot! I've never tried it before!" Kitsune exclaimed excitedly.

"Can I sit this one out?" Descartin muttered softly to her. She noticed he was staring at the Space Slingshot, a passenger globe connected to two towers by two long and thick elastic ropes, one on each side of the globe. The globe was currently bouncing up and down over a hundred meter distance in less than two seconds. Screams could be heard from it, even from this distance.

Isis smiled sweetly at him, and said, "No."

Atasushi stopped the wagon in the sprawling field converted for parking purposes, and they got out. People were trickling past the carnival gates, but Isis could see that as it was not a weekend, there were not too many people around.

Isis made sure she was holding onto Kitsune as they passed thorough the carnival gates. Like all children, the boy's strict self control in the presence of strangers was slowly slipping away as he saw things which interested him.

She had no intention of letting down either Theodore Kurita or Victor Davion by misplacing Omi's son. Even this trip to the carnival was only allowed because Uncle Chandy had persuaded Theodore to let Kitsune out.

Kitsune Kurita was the son of Victor Davion and Omi Kurita, and Isis could not help but feel sad whenever she thought of Omi. The boy had no idea who his father was, but she could see in Kitsune some of Victor's features, as well as some of Omi's.

In hindsight, the name was a dead giveaway to the boy's identity. Kitsune was Japanese for 'fox', and was apparently Omi's way of honoring Hanse Davion, Kitsune's grandfather, known throughout the Inner Sphere as the Fox for his cunning and skill.

Of course, Kitsune had not been revealed to the public yet, even though he was now third in line to be the Coordinator after Hohiro and Minoru. The revelation of his status as Omi's son would no doubt be linked to Victor, and that would in turn lead to even more dissatisfaction with Theodore's rule. So his existence had to be kept a secret, until such time as it could be safely announced.

Daisuke and Atasushi knew, of course, but not Descartin. The plan called for her to get acquainted with Kitsune first, then bring him to Tukayyid to meet his father. They were scheduled to leave in about a week, since Theodore had hoped that Kitsune would be safer with Victor on Tukayyid, and wanted them to leave as soon as possible.

Isis recalled her last meeting with Theodore, and the strain on his face was apparent. There was something very serious going on, but despite her best efforts, she was unable to uncover anything.

Shaking off her ominous thoughts, Isis spied a candy store, and promptly bought Kitsune and herself sticks of cotton candy. She had offered to buy for her bodyguards, but like all men who needed to keep up appearances, they refused.

"So, Kitsune," she asked, "which ride do you want to try out first?"

"The Space Slingshot!"

Isis smiled as Kitsune, like all kids, started running for the ride, pulling her along. Descartin followed, with Daisuke and Atasushi not far behind.

They got into the short queue for the ride. They were the next group in line, and the three men started discussing important issues in low tones while Irene chatted with Kitsune.

"One of us has to be with them." Daisuke stated. "Descartin-_san_, you're it. We'll be the lookout on the ground."

Descartin took one look at the bouncing globe in mid air, where the passengers were screaming their heads off, and cleared his throat. "Uh, can I say no? I mean, you will probably have done this before, _quiaff_? Surely one of you would be better."

The look on Daisuke and Atasushi's faces gave him the answer.

"Wait a minute," Descartin stared at them, "Neither of you had done this before?"

Atasushi shrugged. "Never had the time. Besides, I was deprived as a kid."

Daisuke added, "Same here. Samurai do not have time for such activities."

"And I haven't done this either. What makes you think I'm any more suitable?" Descartin uttered in a harsh whisper.

"Because you are clan, and the clans are known for their bravery and courage?" Daisuke smiled weakly. "To tell the truth, we're scared too."

Descratin took another glance at the globe, which was being lowered onto the ground by several servos in the towers, "By the Kerenskys, you think I am not? I would rather face a _Daishi_ in a _Locust_!"

Before the other two could say anything, the ride operator shouted, "Next!" The passengers stumbled out, all deliriously happy, for some strange reason. They went off in something like a group hug, since none of them were able to walk unaided.

Irene and Kitsune suddenly reached over with an arm each and grabbed Descartin by his shirt. "Come on!" Irene said as the two started dragging Descartin to the globe.

Descartin looked back at Daisuke in panic, but all he saw were the two Otomo waving goodbye to him happily with innocent smiles pasted on their faces. Their eyes told him the rest.

_We didn't choose you. Irene did. Too bad. Enjoy the ride!_

_Traitors._ Descartin gritted his teeth. He looked at Kitsune and Irene, who showed no fear at all of the ride, and steeled himself. _If they can do it, so can I_.

"Descartin, have you done this before?" Irene asked.

"Uh, no. This is a new experience for me." Descartin answered. "Have you done this before?"

"Oh, certainly. Rides like these are common in the Free Worlds League," she said nonchalantly.

Not for the first time, Descartin wondered what a noble like her from the Free Worlds League was doing on Luthien.

They clambered into the globe, while the operator gave them some emergency advice while strapping them into the seats, which could accommodate three people. Kitsune was strapped in between Descartin and Irene. Descartin tugged at his own straps to ensure that they were tight, and was satisfied when they barely budged.

As the globe closed, leaving them with only the clear plexiglass windows all over the globe to look out, Descartin felt Kitsune's hand slide into his.

"I feel scared, Winters-_san_." Kitsune stammered.

Descartin smiled reassuringly. "Hey, so am I." He squeezed Kitsune's hand briefly. "Do not worry, this will be fun." Internally, he made a quick prayer to the Kerenskys, just to be on the safe side.

As he looked over Kitsune to ensure that the boy was seated properly, he caught Irene's eye. She had a strange look on her face, one that Descartin did not understand, but which stirred something that he could not define in his soul.

He could feel the tangible connection between them as they looked at each other. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the globe was suddenly launched into the sky.

The Space Slingshot operates much like a sling, with the globe right in the middle of the elastic bands. The ride starts off by having the motors in the towers connected to the elastic bands lower the globe to the ground, where a series of clamps would hold it in place. Then the motors would move up, increasing the tension in the bands. When the clamps were released, the globe would shoot up into the sky as the bands release their potential energy.

"AHHHH!" Descartin yelled for his life as they flew through the air upwards, the outside through the windows a kaleidoscope of swirling colors. He had dropped into combat from the midst of space, from burning dropships, fought through uncountable situations, but this was something which all his experience had never prepared him for.

The press on his body from the sheer acceleration, the feel of being propelled through the air at incredible speeds, the slight whistling of sound as the globe flew through the air. They all added to the experience.

He was dimly aware of Irene and Kitsune screaming right along with him as the globe gradually slowed as it reached the apex of its flight. For the briefest moment, he took a deep breath, before the globe started descending towards the ground at increasing speeds, propelled by the tension in the bands, this time in the opposite direction.

"WOOHOO!" Descartin shouted as they saw the ground approach them at high speed. Then just before they actually struck the ground, the globe slowed to a momentary halt again, bare meters above the ground, before shooting back up.

This time, they were all shouting in exuberance now, thoroughly enjoying the ride.

Isis walked out of the globe. Actually, it was more like she was being half carried by Descartin, who amazingly was able to retain enough of his equilibrium to stand upright and walk properly. He had lifted Kitsune onto his shoulders, despite Kitsune's size.

Daisuke walked over with a grin. "Did you enjoy the ride?"

They all nodded, even Des. For Isis, it was not her first time, but it was still exhilarating every time. She was glad to see that Kitsune had enjoyed himself.

And there was that moment in the globe when she was looking at Des…

"Well, what's next?" Kitsune asked, swinging his legs around Descartin's chest.

"Anything you want." She answered.

They walked past a stall offering toys to whoever could knock down several bottles. Several teenagers were trying their hand at the game, and a girl squealed in delight as a boy managed to knock down a bottle, with the vendor handing over a stuffed bear which looked suspiciously like a Ghost Bear caricature. The vendor spotted them, and shouted, "Try your skill! Win something for your girl and your kids! 4 tries per _ryu_!"

Descartin slowed down, and he lifted Kitsune off his shoulders and down onto the ground as he walked up the stall.

"Des, what are you doing?" Isis asked as they watched him fork out a dollar coin to the vendor, who smiled through a set of grimy teeth and handed over several balls.

Descartin didn't answer, but he took a ball and flung it with all the strength he had as a trueborn mechwarrior at the bottles.

The bottle he was aiming at didn't just fall off. It broke under the impact, breaking into several shards onto the ground.

Without pausing or looking at the gaping vendor, Descartin took a second ball and flung it again, smashing down another bottle. He left the remaining two shots, signaling that he had enough.

The dumbfounded vendor handed over two large stuffed bears, shaking his head at his lousy luck.

As Des grabbed the bears and turned around to look at them, Isis commented loudly, "Show off." She also saw the embarrassment on Descartin's blushing face, as though he wasn't quite sure why he was doing all this either. He held out the bears stiffly, one to Kitsune, and one to her.

Despite her words, Isis accepted with both hands the stuffed toy he had won for her, and hugged the toy. For the first time in her life, somebody had done something just for her. Not because of her title, not because he wanted something from her. All her life, the people around her had constantly badgered her into doing this or that, in return for some future favor or gift. Even Sun-Tzu had not truly cared, tricking her with false promises into securing aid for his battered nation, and later sacrificing her on Hustaing. Nobody, not even her father, had cared. Only Victor and Omi came close, and Omi was dead.

But here was a lost clan warrior, a simple soldier who didn't even know exactly what he was doing or why, willing to do something for her without asking for anything in return. It was a heartfelt gesture that touched her to the depths of her soul.

Isis could feel the tears threatening to spill out of her eyes, but she clutched the toy close to her face, shielding her watery eyes from the others, and breathed in hard, bringing her emotions under control.

"Are you all right, _oneesan_?" Kitsune tugged her jeans.

"Yes," Isis said, lowering the bear, sniffing slightly, "I have never been better."

It was evening, and Descartin was still wondering what came over him. They were all sprawled around a table tiredly with their spoils of the day. They had added to his initial haul of toys, and the table itself was cluttered with empty boxes previously full of sushi, pizza, and fried chicken, and several cans of soft drink.

"Buuurrp!" There was loud belch from Daisuke. "Sorry," the elder Otomo warrior apologized, "Ate too much." He stumbled away in search of a toilet, after Descartin and Atasushi had assured him that they were on the job. Atasushi took up a standing position several meters away to act as a lookout, while Descartin stayed near the table.

Kitsune was sleeping on Irene's lap, obviously tired from the day's activities, while the noblewoman stroked the boy's hair.

She looked up as Descartin sat down next to them.

He asked, "Did you have fun?"

Irene nodded, "Yes, this was one of the best days of my life." Her long brown hair, normally tied in a ponytail, was now loose, and it cascaded around her shoulders. She looked at him, "Thank you so very much for making this day so memorable for Kitsune. And for me too."

Descartin gulped, feeling a strange sensation stir within him. He looked away for a moment, before turning back to Irene, having made his decision. _Might as well ask it out now._

"Duchess, I have been with you for more than a week now. I would like to know who exactly you are. I know Irene is not your real name."

It was her turn to look away. "I'm exactly what I told you, a Duchess from the Free Worlds League. As for my name, it doesn't matter."

Descartin sighed, "Look, I may not be all that familiar with the Inner Sphere, but I do know enough to see that having a noblewoman from the Free Worlds League staying in the Imperial Palace of House Kurita is pretty unusual. You do not seem like an ambassador, nor the consort of a diplomat. So, who are you? Who is Kitsune?"

Irene shook her head, "I really can't tell you. You know, state secrets and all that. I wish I could, but I can't."

"I understand," he said after a pause. "You have your own problems, and you do not need me to add to them by knowing about it. I am sorry for prying."

"Don't be. Showing concern for others is what friends do."

Descartin raised an eyebrow. "Are we friends?"

"Of course we are. You won a stuffed toy for me, remember?" Her eyes twinkled. "Trying to impress me?"

Descartin blushed, "I was just trying to fit in."

She laughed softly. "I know, I know. And besides, you've never told me why you came to Luthien anyway."

Descartin shrugged. "It is a long story."

"Then tell me about it. We've got time."

He gave her the abbreviated version. He told her of his life as a member of the clans, his wanderings from one clan to another. Then the battles on Einstein, where he had undergone an epiphany. His meeting on Outreach with Jaime Wolf, and finally the letter to Narimasa Asano.

"So that's why you had nothing to do. You were waiting for Asano to turn up." Irene said.

"Aff. I plan to ask Daisuke for help in this matter. I only hope that he is willing to help."

"Well, you could ask me." Irene grinned.

Descartin blinked for several moments. "You? But, I thought…"

"I know _Tai-sho_ Asano, and I think I can get him to see you once he returns from his trip. But what happens when you do see him?"

"I find out where to find that _Archer_ pilot, and I intend to go look for him."

"For what? Answers that don't really matter?" Irene asked.

"Irene, they matter to me. I need to know where to go, what to do. I need something to give me a reason to go on, to keep fighting. Right now…"

"Aren't you doing something? Protecting me and Kitsune here?" Irene smiled. "Des, stop trying so hard to give yourself a reason to fight. Just live your life the way you want it. Tell me honestly, are you happy here?"

Descartin looked at her for a long moment, before he admitted, "Aff, I think I am. It is not a familiar feeling."

"Des, life doesn't have to revolve around finding enemies and then beating them up silly. If you like what you're doing now, why can't you just let go of your quest?"

_Letting go of my quest? _Descartin thought in silence. _She is right. Why not? Why do I have to keep pushing? For what? A bloodname? Fame? Glory? I have ensured my inclusion in the breeding program. What else is there?_

He continued to think._ I am happy here, and I would like to stay here, I think. It is a good life. An easy one. No need to worry about sudden Trials, no need to fight pointless battles. Was this what Peyes Mannix meant when he said that the greatest reward of all for a warrior is a happy life?_

"I do not know," Descartin said, "I feel so empty. The answers I get may help me dispel that feeling."

But he knew he was lying, because right now, at this moment, he did not feel empty. Indeed, he had not felt empty since he met her. It was something he did not have the courage to say.

Isis was about to reply to Descartin when she felt Kitsune stir. She looked at her watch. It was almost 8 o'clock, and she had to send Kitsune back to the palace.

"Kitsune, we have to go back to the palace now. Wake up."

The boy sat up on the bench, helped up by Descartin. Kitsune yawned, a sign that he was still tired. Isis knew the boy would be sleeping early once they got back.

"I think we should call Daisuke and Atasushi to send you back. It has been a long day." Descartin remarked.

"We heard you," the two Otomo walked up to them. "It is getting late, and the Duchess is right. Let's clean up the table, then we'll be on our way."

With all five of them helping out, it was an easy task. Even Kitsune helped by bringing the cans to the recycling bin, which Descartin insisted on rather than just chucking the whole lot into the waste bin. Apparently the 'waste not' mentality of the clans was not a rumor.

They walked off towards the hover-wagon, past the throngs of people. There were more people than in the morning, since the carnival was open until midnight, and the citizens of Luthien were obviously freer in their evenings and nights.

Kitsune hopped between them happily, with Isis holding onto one hand as usual. When Kitsune grabbed hold of Descartin's hand, who was walking opposite her carrying a bulging bag of toys with his other hand, Isis could see the momentary confusion on Descartin's face. On instinct, she took a quick look at Daisuke, and she thought she saw a wry grin on his face.

Apparently, with Kitsune between her and Descartin, holding both their hands, they looked every inch a small family leaving the carnival. Daisuke need not have said it, but she read his expression all the same.

_Well, well,_ Isis thought, smiling, _I never thought I would find myself like this on Luthien._ She had always thought it would be Sun-Tzu beside her, not some confused clan warrior masquerading as her bodyguard. Or was he her bodyguard masquerading as her boyfriend?

Isis didn't care anymore. Either was fine with her.

"Instant photos, folks!" A man near the gate was shouting. "Instant photos for just 5 _ryu_! Something to remember this day! A memoir for the future! For your family, or with your loved ones! Photos for 5 _ryu_!"

Isis immediately steered the group towards the man, pulling along Kitsune and Descartin along.

"Irene, what are you doing?" Descartin asked.

"A memento, for me, you, and young Kitsune," Isis smiled as she paid out the coins to the man, who smiled. "Come, stand over here!" Kitsune eagerly placed himself in front of her, while Descartin looked more confused than ever.

"Ahh, a family photo!" The man exclaimed in delight, getting into position and readying his camera, while Descartin stood around with Atasushi and Daisuke.

Isis gestured to Descartin, waving her hand, "Des, over here!"

The photographer spun around and said to Des, "Ahh, my man, your wife is calling you! Go stand next to her and your kid!"

_What, me? _The expression on a flabbergasted Descartin seemed to say before Daisuke and Atasushi sent him towards Isis with a strong shove to the back.

Isis grabbed him and pushed him into place just beside her. She whispered to him, "Just pretend for a moment, okay?"

He nodded, obviously still in shock, while she laid a hand on Kitsune's shoulder, and one around Descartin.

"Put one hand around my waist." She told him. It was half in cheek, but she really did want to feel his hand around her.

Descartin responded robotically to her command, as though his brain had been overloaded by the curve she had thrown him. But he did so anyway, while an uneasy smile appeared on his face. He was extremely tentative, but his hand did rest eventually on her hip.

"Are you ready?" The photographer asked. "Nice family you got there!"

Isis grinned at Descartin's blush, while Kitsune fidgeted slightly.

"Okay now, on count of three! Three, two, one, say cheese!"

Isis smiled as the camera flashed, leaving colored dots in her vision as the photo was taken.

The photographer walked over, and handed her four copies of the photo.

Isis beamed as she looked at the photos. Yes, it had turned out exceptionally well.

"Here," she handed one to Descartin, explaining, "Something for you to remember this day."

Descartin took the photo and stared at it for a while. It wasn't very big, but Isis figured it was large enough to tuck into a wallet. He looked at her, and said, "Thank you."

Isis smiled, "Well, consider it payback for what you got for me." She nodded her head at the bag he carried, which held the toys.

"Come on, let's go!" Atasushi reminded them. "It's getting late!"

As they left the carnival, Isis made sure she was holding hands with Descartin.

"Got anything?" Ryo Saeba groaned on hearing the words as he entered his room. As a _Tai-i_ in a line regiment, even one as disreputable as the Legion of Vega, he was allowed the privilege of staying outside the military compound, though he had to make sure he would report on duty every day, or the privilege would be revoked.

Yoshino Ihara was sitting in a chair, with a map in his hands. He looked at Ryo. "Well?"

"No, not yet." Ryo admitted. "It's a big city, Ihara-_san_. For all we know, he could have left the planet already."

"I don't think so. I am sure he does not have enough money to get off world, and he still needs to see _Tai-sho_ Asano."

Ryo sat down on his own bed. "Then we can just wait for the _Tai-sho_ to return and get Winters then. It's certainly easier than going around like this."

"I'm afraid he'll get into trouble."

"Come on, Yoshino," Ryo said, "You're talking about a clan warrior here. He can take care of himself."

"Can he?" Yoshino rubbed his chin speculatively. "I'm not so sure. This is a new environment for him. Who knows how he'll react?"

"Better than you might think. Hey, where's Tina?"

"I think she went off to look at the stage performance next door." Yoshino folded up the map. "I also need to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"I don't know if it is just me, but the street gangs and yakuza around here seem to be very nervous."

Ryo narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"The _eta_ you referred me to. They nearly pulled their weapons on me when I was asking around for information. Now, I think I haven't been away long enough for them to get that paranoid. So that means something big is probably up."

Ryo realized that Yoshino did have a point. Perhaps because he had been in such close contact with the underground, the change had not been so apparent to him, but to an outsider like Yoshino, it was readily clear.

"So what do you think?" Yoshino asked.

"I don't know. I'll try to find out." Then a thought struck Ryo. The last time yakuza had gotten nervous, he hadn't noticed either…

And it had led to the assassination attempt during the Coordinator's birthday. A chill ran up his back, as Ryo digested the implications of Yoshino's observations.

_The Black Dragons could not be planning to kill the Coordinator again, could they?_ He thought. _But they were supposed to be wiped out after the war with the Ghost Bears…_

Except he knew in his heart that the Black Dragons could never be fully eradicated, not while the credo of the Dragon ascendant over all of humanity still existed in the Combine. Every time they were said to have been wiped out, they had proven the ISF wrong. Hell, it had occurred so often that there was a running joke in the Legions of Vega that the ISF was half in cahoots with the Black Dragons themselves. Except that it wasn't funny anymore.

And if they were up to something, it was his duty to find out.

He stood up, and headed for the door. "Yoshino, I'm going out, maybe to my regimental HQ. You're right, there's something wrong."

Yoshino stood up as well. "What do you mean?"

"Go to the starport with Tina and Wolkul now. Immediately. Find a room to stay there. I want you near your mech."

"Ryo, what's going on?" A puzzled Yoshino asked.

"I'll explain to you later! Just do as I tell you!" Ryo yelled as he ran down the stairs.

There were some men he needed to see.

The elderly man with a white beard smiled as he sipped at his cup of tea. Yes, things were proceeding very nicely. Nothing, save for a truly grievous leak in security, could stop them now.

"Are your men ready?" the old man who was Duke Hassid Ricol, known otherwise as the Red Hunter, asked his guest, sitting opposite him.

"They are ready as they will ever be, Duke Ricol. The plan is flawless, and I shall soon claim my vengeance on those who betrayed me." In the dark, illuminated by dim light, the face of his guest was not readily visible, though the light did light up his neck and a small part of his face, showing a patchwork of scars on one side of his face.

Ricol nodded. Tomorrow, he would claim everything that should have belonged to him. Tomorrow, he would lead the Draconis Combine back onto the proper path.

Under his leadership, of course.

"Let me toast you, my friend," Ricol lifted his cup to his guest. "May our endeavor be successful!"

"Yes," his guest leaned forward with his own cup of tea, which brought his horribly scarred face into the light, "May we succeed!" They touched their cups together.

Ricol watched impassively as Vance Rezak, bandit leader of the Band of the Damned and former samurai, consumed the contents of his cup in a single swallow.

Well, my exams are over, and I'll be trying to work full time on the fic. Not much going on, because of the stupid SARS thingy going on, which meant that an overseas trip I had planned is unlikely to take place.

*mumbles about prior pneumonia cases being given a new name and bad populist science*

I was trying to build up the romance between Isis and Descartin in this chapter, but my final personal verdict was that I am not a very good romantic writer. Hell, I don't even read romance novels! Maybe I should start brushing up on that area soon.

Anyway, please forgive me if you mech junkies find this chapter boring. I tried. Really. But don't worry, next chapter will have enough explosions to satisfy the most diehard MW fan.

The ending of this chapter, just like the last chapter ending, would serve as the lead in into the mech action. For those who have no idea who the Red Hunter Duke Hassid Ricol was, please read Heir to the Dragon, Path of Glory, or even better, the Gray Death Trilogy.

Also, FYI, the assassination attempt on Teddy Kurita took place in the novel Black Dragon. Characters from that story would be appearing in this one.

Sunny boy left Isis out to dry on Hustaing in the novel Threads of Ambition.

The Draconis Combine currency is the ryu, divided into 100 yen. The prices I used in this story was purely a guess, since the stupid MW 3rd Ed book didn't mention the exchange rates between the ryu and the C-bill in 3060.

Oh, and some of you might have seen the Table of Contents on the CBT website for FM: Updates. Well, they had to put a real crimp into my plot by having the Taurian Concordat shatter itself into two(or more) pieces before 3067. Obviously, I'll pretend that many of the events within the FM never happened in my fic. I'll take what I need, and to hell with the rest.

Besides, I could already make an educated guess about the events. Let's see now, we have "Taurian Blues", "Bittersweet Years", "Tragedy in 3 Parts", and then three states connected to the TC in the form of the Concordat, the Calderon Protectorate, and then the pirate band Calderon's Commando.

One of the part tragedies will be the death of Janice or Brenda Calderon. Bet on it. Also, another part tragedy will be the separation of the Calderon Protectorate. It's also very possible that another of the Calderon heirs, like Ian(it might even be him), would return to the Taurian Concordat to challenge Grover, and fail in the process, ending up as a pirate leader(of the Commando).

Remember, you heard it here first!

Anyway, next chapter goes back to New Avalon, instead of the Taurian Concordat like some might expect. Get ready for a no holds barred, all out action, to the death brawl as the bad guys go Victor-hunting, with the good and not-so-good guys trying to stop them.

But there'll be some twists at the beginning for poor Frank and Clarice. I had been planning to throw a real spanner into the works, even before Mbwun suggested that I do something different. But whether it'll be clichéd or original depends on how many soap operas you guys have seen!

And Duo, don't worry, you might just get your wish. Sorta.

The chapter after that will be back to Luthien, where there will also be all out mech action. Also, an old character from ATSOS will also appear. Just as a preview of sorts, here's a mech that will make its debut in Chapter 9, the Black Dragon. What's so good about it? The experienced veteran will know.

About letting you guys dance around in stew waiting for updates, I'm sorry, but I'm not a pro writer.;)

Last, but not least, please review! Incentive, remember?

Type/Model:    Black Dragon BLDG-3A

Tech:          Inner Sphere / 3070

Config:        Biped BattleMech

Rules:         Level 2, Standard design

Mass:          50 tons

Chassis:       Dragon Light Endo Steel

Power Plant:   300 Vlar Fusion

Walking Speed: 64.8 km/h

Maximum Speed: 97.2 [118.8] km/h

Jump Jets:     5 Cloud Lifters 50 Standard Jump Jets

Jump Capacity: 150 meters

Armor Type:    StarSlab Special Standard

Armament:      

  1 Shigunga MRM 10

  2 Bright-Blossom ER Medium Lasers

  2 Bright-Blossom ER Small Lasers

  1 Kajuka Type 1 "Stiletto" Small Laser

Manufacturer:  Kokuryu-kai Secret Manufacturing Arm

  Location:    Albiero

Communications System:  Dawson V

Targeting & Tracking System:  Bk-2000

Overview: 

The Black Dragon Society in the Draconis Combine picked up steam with the grievous blows to the Dragons' honor due to the events of the past few years.  
Attracting more and more disaffected citizens into their ranks, their coffers were similarly filled to the brim with donations and monies gathered from illegal means.  
In order to carry out Operation Metamorph, they poured some of these funds into constructing a new Battlemech factory on Albiero, rehabilitating the disused mining technology in the huge mountains of the world to provide materials for their new production lines.  
For their first Battlemech, they chose a relatively cheap and deadly mech, meant to be the flagship of their movement, the Black Dragon, which was rejected by Cosby Mech Research Firm when it was submitted.

Capabilities: 

The Black Dragon was designed to be a close in fighter with a sword. Quite naturally, the Black Dragons played on the samurai image so prevalent and popular with the ordinary Combine citizen and included that piece of equipment on the mech, made possible by their many contacts within the yakuza and the Legions of Vega.  
It was also these same sources that made available to them triple strength myomer, without which the sword would be relatively useless. With the new myomer, it became possible for the Black Dragon to decapitate any mech with a well placed blow when it is running hot.  
For ranged firepower, the Black Dragon has a MRM 10 rack, bought from Shigunga via various dummy corporations and mercenary fronts. Inexpensive and easy to obtain, this was chosen over the more difficult to procure streak launchers.  
Two ER medium lasers imported from the Free Worlds League via Word of Blake assistance and locally produced Kajuka Stilleto and some more Bright Blossom small lasers round out the mech.  
Armed with substantial amor, good speed, and excellent maneuverability, the Black Dragon has been well received by clandestine Black Dragon units.

Battle History: 

During the start of the Black Dragon Rebellion on Luthien, various Black Dragon mechs were tasked to rapidly destroy and harass loyalist units moving to defend the Imperial Palace.  
They proved their worth in the crowded confines of Imperial City, slashing with their lasers and swords into mchs trying to break through. One light Legion of Vega company came up against two lance of Black Dragons just as they were entering the city.  
By the end of the fight, only two of the Vega mechs were able to stagger into the Palace, the rest of their comrades destroyed by the Black Dragons and their ruthless physical attacks.  
A less successful outing for the mech came during the Escape, where important Combine officials tried to make their way offworld through the Kado-Guchi Valley to reach their dropships.  
At least 8 Black Dragons were destroyed by the marksmanship of the escorting mech units as they closed in to use their swords and MRMs, starkly revealing the Black Dragon's weaknesses in ranged combat. According to some reports, the four escorting mechs destroyed over a battalion's worth of rebel mechs during that one convoy mission.

Variants: 

One variant based on the original proposal carries an all energy loadout of ER lasers and standard small lasers. It also carries ferro fibrous armor and maximum protection for its weight, removing the arm actuators for the large laser, which gives the mech some long range punch. This variant is seen mostly in rebel Sword of Light units.

Deployment 

Black Dragon mechs have been sighted since the start of the Black Dragon Rebellion on many of the worlds currently in the grip of the conflict, always in the service of Black Dragon Society affiliated units.  
Some of these mechs had even been seen in Sword of Light units that had defected to the Black Dragons.  
Albeiro continues to churn out dozens of these mechs for the rebels, at a rate of 24 per month. The ISF has since discovered the mech factory's location, but the Coordinator is yet unable to amass enough strength to conquer the world.

Type/Model:    Black Dragon BLDG-3A

Mass:          50 tons

Equipment:                                 Crits    Mass

Int. Struct.:  83 pts Endo Steel            14      2.50

 (Endo Steel Loc: 1 HD, 2 LA, 2 RA, 3 LT, 2 RT, 2 LL, 2 RL)

Engine:        300 Fusion                    6     19.00

   Walking MP:   6 [7]

   Running MP:   9 [11]

   Jumping MP:   5

Heat Sinks:     10 Double [20]               0       .00

Gyro:                                        4      3.00

Cockpit, Life Supt., Sensors:                5      3.00

Triple Strength Myomer:                      6       .00

Actuators: L: Sh+UA+LA+H    R: Sh+UA+LA+H   16       .00

Armor Factor:  152 pts Standard              0      9.50

                          Internal    Armor

                          Structure   Value

   Head:                      3          9      

   Center Torso:             16         23      

   Center Torso (Rear):                  8      

   L/R Side Torso:           12      16/16      

   L/R Side Torso (Rear):              5/5      

   L/R Arm:                   8      15/15      

   L/R Leg:                  12      20/20      

Weapons and Equipment    Loc  Heat  Ammo   Crits    Mass

--------------------------------------------------------

1 MRM 10                 LA      4   24      3      4.00

  (Ammo Locations: 1 LT)

1 ER Medium Laser        RT      5           1      1.00

1 ER Medium Laser        LT      5           1      1.00

2 ER Small Lasers        LT      4           2      1.00

1 Small Laser            LT      1           1       .50

CASE Equipment:          LT                  1       .50

1 Sword                  RH                  4      2.50

5 Standard Jump Jets:                        5      2.50

 (Jump Jet Loc: 2 LT, 2 RT, 1 CT)

--------------------------------------------------------

TOTALS:                         19          69     50.00

Crits & Tons Left:                           9       .00

Calculated Factors:

Total Cost:        5,875,125 C-Bills

Battle Value:      1,149

Cost per BV:       5,113.25

Weapon Value:      944 / 944 (Ratio = .82 / .82)

Damage Factors:    SRDmg = 18;  MRDmg = 5;  LRDmg = 0

BattleForce2:      MP: 6,  Armor/Structure: 4/4

                   Damage PB/M/L: 4/2/-,  Overheat: 0

                   Class: MM;  Point Value: 12


	8. Meronac

_Since the end of the civil war, we have discovered numerous accounting errors in the tables of equipment and personnel. While some of that is undoubtedly due to the vagaries of combat and war over a period of 5 years, many of the losses could not even be accounted for by combat, since it was clear that thy did not take part in the fighting._

_Four warships, about 600 nuclear and biological warheads from various facilities, and almost 5 RCTs worth of mechs and vehicles were found missing and not destroyed by our investigators._

_This team suggests that every effort be made to uncover the whereabouts of these weapons of war._

_-Excerpt from classified DMI report 32464JDZ-23156, dated 14th September 3067_

_The one lesson learnt from observing the civil war was the sheer intensity of modern combat, a far cry even from the days of the old Star League Defense Force under General Kerensky. With centuries of history to draw on, commanders were often encouraged to seize the initiative at any cost, and more importantly, they often had the means to do so, with the proliferation of advanced construction techniques like extra light engines and endo steel, and the advent of extended range technology._

_The fluid nature of mobile combat meant that only the quickest thinkers could thrive in command. The plodding top heavy style once favored by the House militaries four decades ago evolved into the nimble and responsive delegation command style that was seen in the civil war. Junior officers had more responsibility than ever, while senior officers had to be even more aware of the locations and plans of their subordinates._

_It was to prove good training for the jihad._

_-The Nature of War, _Jonathon Hanson__

_Avalon City, New Avalon,_

_Crucis March, Federated Suns_

_19th August 3068_

Duke Derrick Ferguson drummed his fingers impatiently on the armrest of his chair. Not for the first time, he wondered where he had gone wrong in the upbringing of his daughter.

Frank Meronac was a fine man, even he admitted that. But he was not of noble birth, and that was all Derrick needed to scratch his name off the substantial list of suitors. Now Jacques, on the other hand, was a baron, and even better, was a rising star in the Federated Suns military.

And what possibilities that might bring…

There was a rapping on his door.

"Come in," the Duke ordered. It was getting late, and he needed to get this over with as quickly as possible. The room was lit with soft light, and Ferguson was preparing to go to sleep after he had settled this matter.

Jacques Viler entered with a tray of tea. "My lord, here're some refreshments." Jacques placed the tray on a nearby table.

Ferguson nodded, "Thank you. Have a seat." He gestured to a seat facing him.

Jacques took the seat, than asked, "What was it you wanted to see me about?"

"It should come as no surprise to you, but again, it's about Clarice." Ferguson coughed slightly, then picked up a cup of tea. "You should know that Meronac is still seeing her, even after your 'advice' a few days ago."

"Yes, I know. But Frank is a stubborn man, and it seems his prior experiences have made him even more so."

"I don't care." Ferguson stated firmly. "I just don't want him near my daughter any longer."

"But sir…"

"Hear me out. Since we cannot convince Meronac, how about we convince Clarice instead?"

Jacques was horrified. "Sir, you cannot be suggesting that…"

Derrick smiled. "No, of course not. You misunderstand me. There're always alternatives, and here's one that'll convince Clarice to do as I tell her without her getting hurt in any way. Indeed, I want her away from Avalon City and near my estates on Rostock instead, since that'll quite limit her chances of getting near Meronac. I won't have my future descendents have commoner blood in them."

Ferguson stood up. "Soon, Jacques, soon I shall win over enough nobles to re-establish the Periphery March, and with me as its Minister and Duke! Clarice shall be my heir, and I'll not have her marrying a low born swamp rat from Lackland, even if it is my personal fiefdom!"

He leaned over to look at Jacques. "You, on the other hand, would be a worthy choice. Your military record speaks for itself," Ferguson smiled inwardly as he noticed Jacques puffing himself up with pride, "and I am sure you will go even further in the future. But I need Clarice to leave Avalon City now."

Jacques shook his head. "Clarice will never agree to leaving Avalon City."

"Oh, she will," Ferguson said with confidence, "I've already placed my men in place. Here's what you need to do…"

Jacques leaned forward, and smiled as the Duke outlined his plan.

Clarice hummed to herself as she walked away from Frank's apartment block. It had been quite a nice night they had after work. Frank had brought her out for a movie, then they had a good time having supper at a small café. She hoped she didn't eat too much.

The two of them had been highly tempted to have her stay longer in his apartment, but Frank was adamant that she leave because his wounds had not completely healed yet. She also suspected he was still a bit leery of what Jacques might do if she stayed in his apartment overnight.

Not to mention what her father might do…

She sighed. Problems like these were the toughest to deal with. She loved her father very much despite everything he did. Her father was hard but fair, but he just couldn't think straight when it came to Frank. Frank wasn't any less a man for being a low born commoner, and it wasn't his fault anyway. He was on his way to being a warrior, and could even be quite successful.

Oh, she knew her father was only trying to protect her, but she was no longer a child, but a full grown woman capable of making her own choices. And she had chosen Frank.

The lights on the streets glowed dimly as she walked back to her own apartment, a short distance away.

The screech of rubber tires on the road behind her attracted her attention. She turned around, only for the car to suddenly pull up beside her. To her surprise, Jacques Viler jumped out of the car and grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Clarice screamed. She tried to kick herself away, but Jacques managed to bundle her into the car regardless. The door shut behind her, and the car started to move off.

Clarice looked around frantically for a way out, while Jacques tried to calm her down.

"Clarice, relax!" Jacques was saying, but Clarice didn't care. If Jacques thought he could get her with this method, he was sorely mistaken.

She asked, "What do you want with me?"

Jacques explained patiently, "Nothing really, except I want you to see something first."

Clarice felt the car stop, then the window beside her seat came down with a whirring sound. She realized that they were just below Frank's apartment.

And smoke was coming out of Frank's apartment. The dull flicker of yellow light from the apartment could only mean one thing.

She turned to look at Jacques, horrified beyond words. "Jacques, what have you done?"

Jacques shrugged. "Nothing much. We poured several gallons of kerosene mixed with chloroform and other volatile fuels in front of his door, then lit it up. I think we managed to get enough into his flat to set the things inside alight. If he isn't knocked out by the fumes, he might have a chance."

"You're mad!" Clarice reached for the door handle, trying to open it, but it refused to budge. "Let me out!" She had to get help for Frank!

Jacques continued speaking quietly and calmly. "You see, Clarice, we also managed to cut the phone lines to his flat. Sure, he might get his own mobile phone, but it won't be easy. If help doesn't arrive soon…" Jacques drew a line across his throat.

"What do you want?" Clarice asked, fear clutching her heart in its painful grasp. She could feel the tears in her eyes. Frank was dying up there!

"Stay away from Frank, Clarice." Jacques ordered. "Go to your father's estates on Rostock, and stay there for good. Leave Meronac as long as he is still on New Avalon. Cut off all communications with him even when he goes offworld. Tell him that you'll no longer see him. Then we'll let you call for help. In fact, we'll even do it for you."

"Did my father put you up to this?" Clarice shouted accusingly. She was beginning to panic. How could Jacques do this? And Frank could be dying right now!

Jacques shook his head. "No, it was my idea. But your father might have approved anyway. So what's your decision? Time's running out." He took a look at his watch, as though taunting her with the fact that she had to make a decision soon.

Clarice took one look at the apartment above, the tears now running down her face. There was no other choice. For Frank to live, she'll have to give up their love. She hated herself for having no other choice, she hated Jacques for this ploy. How could he sink so low? Why couldn't she be just a little bit stronger and stand up to him?

She realized that she couldn't. Neither could Frank. In the eyes of people like Jacques, they were just tools to be manipulated, items to be possessed. The idea of free will was a joke.

She sobbed, "I agree, damn you! I agree! Get help now, please!"

Jacques nodded slowly. "You see, it's as easy as that." He nodded to the driver, then reached over to pat a sobbing Clarice on her hand. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you."

The sound of sirens was heard in the neighborhood several minutes later, but the car was already gone.

Frank shook his head in disbelief as he sat on the chair in the police station. Was it his imagination, or was his luck particularly bad this past year?

He had been barely hanging onto consciousness when the fire brigade had managed to break down his door and get him out. His apartment had been wrecked, though he supposed he should be grateful he did not have any valuables in there.

Hell, with his financial condition, what could he possibly have in the way of possessions? The _Night Gyr_ sitting in the spaceport was the only valuable thing he really owned, and there was no way he was giving _that_ up!

"Mister Meronac, this looks like a deliberate case of arson. Is there anyone you might have offended over the past few months?" The police officer was asking.

_Well, I could mention Jacques, but who'll believe me? _Frank groaned silently. He lied through his teeth, "I didn't offend anybody."

The officer raised a bushy eyebrow. "You sure? According to the records on you, you're a registered mechwarrior and a mercenary. Sure there isn't anything you want to tell us?"

Frank pasted a smile on his face. "No, I'm sure it's all just a big misunderstanding."

The officer nodded, though his face showed that he certainly wasn't convinced by Frank's act. No matter. It wasn't his problem to handle.

Frank got up from the chair to see Eddie and Lorik walk up to him. It wasn't very late in the night, but it wasn't exactly early either. Midnight was just ten minutes away.

"What happened?" Lorik asked, his booming voice drawing the stares of the policemen.

Frank shook his head, grabbed one of Eddie's arms, and started pulling him in the direction of the exit. "I'm not sure, but I can't tell you here. Let's go out, and we'll talk."

They squeezed into Eddie's car, and Frank asked, "Eddie, can you send me to Clarice's home? I lost my mobile phone, and I haven't been able to get into contact with her even from the station."

"You're worried something's happened." Eddie stated the obvious. "And you think it's Jacques."

"Yeah." Frank answered grimly. "But I've got no proof. I'm just worried about Clarice."

"I think she can take care of herself." Eddie said.

"Just in case, and besides, I need a place to stay, and your apartment is already too cramped with Lorik around."

Frank took Eddie's silence as acquiescence to his points.

It was a long ride to Clarice's own apartment, since it was pretty far away from the police station he had been taken to, and Frank sighed in relief when he saw the lights in her apartment were on.

"Thanks Eddie. I'm going on up myself. It's getting late. I think you guys should head on back home." Frank opened the car doors and hopped out. "I think I'll crash at Clarice's place."

"Ahhh," Eddie grinned, "Taking advantage of your misfortune?"

Frank shrugged, "I really need a place to stay overnight." He closed the door, and slapped the top of the car lightly. "Thanks for the lift, Eddie. Good night guys. Bye!"

Eddie and Lorik waved back as they drove off. Frank turned and started for the block.

The first thing he noticed were the workers moving things out of the block onto several vans in the apartments own car lot. In the middle of the night.

Frank looked closer. _Wait a minute, these are Clarice's stuff!_ He ran up to a worker and asked, "Excuse me, but which apartment are these from?"

The worker, a burly man in his forties, replied, "Level 7, apartment H."

Frank's heart sank at the words. It was indeed Clarice's apartment. What was going on? If she was moving out, why now? Why didn't she tell him? His head was spinning a bit at the turn of events. This was definitely not a good night for him.

Frank took the lift up, along with several movers, getting more nervous by the moment. He stepped out of the lift, only to see a grim Jacques Viler supervising what seemed to be the last batch of furniture.

"Jacques?" Frank's stomach was churning in its customary way whenever he was near Jacques. "What's going on? Where's Clarice?"

The target of his questions paid him no heed for several long seconds, instead giving some instructions to the workers. He turned to Frank only after he had finished giving the last of his orders.

"What did you say, Meronac?" Jacques asked sardonically.

_Calm down, Frank. You don't want to get into a fight, _Frank told himself. He spoke, "What's going on? Where's Clarice?"

"Clarice," Jacques said firmly, "is no longer your business. She's moving to her father's estate on Rostock. I suggest you stay away from her."

Frank couldn't believe his ears. "What? Where is she? I need to talk to her!" He started to walk past Jacques into the apartment.

Jacques let him pass, before he said, "She's not here. She's already on a plane to Rostock."

Unable to find her in the apartment, Frank, for the first time in his life in Jacques' presence, let his anger show on his face. "Let me talk to her!" He stared at Jacques, trying to intimidate the other man.

Unimpressed, Jacques raised an eyebrow. "You sure? Fine." Jacques took out a mobile phone, and pressed a button. He held it out for Frank.

Frank held it up to his ear. "Hello?"

"Frank?" Clarice's voice came over the phone.

"Clarice, where are you?" Frank asked desperately.

"I'm… I'm on a flight to Rostock."

_She sounds broken up._ Frank tried to ignore the chill gripping his heart. "Clarice, what happened? Please tell me! Come back, please!" He ran to an open balcony, hoping to catch a glimpse of her plane in the night sky.

"I'm sorry," he heard a sob from her, "I'm sorry, Frank. This can't work out between us. It'll never work. I'm so sorry. Please forget me. Goodbye." She hung up.

Frank gripped the mobile phone tightly in his hand, unable to believe what he had just heard. _No, dammit! She had to be forced into this. I know it!_

He spun around to look at Jacques. "What did you do?" He demanded again in a yell, "_What did you do?_"

"What? She dumped you?" Jacques smiled. "Should have done that a long time ago. Good riddance, Meronac."

"Tell me, damn you!" Frank stepped forward with a fist swinging around at Jacques, but Jacques casually blocked it before sending his other hand in a blow into Frank's body.

Frank fell back from the force of the blow, and choked several times, trying to get some air back into his lungs. 

"Stay away from her, Meronac." Jacques started to walk off with the last of the furniture movers, into the lift. "She doesn't need your type around. Go shack up with a whore from the street. It suits you. Good night, loser." The lift doors closed.

Leaving Frank alone with his thoughts, sitting on the corridor. _Why can't I beat him? Damn it, why? Why did she have to leave? Why did this have to happen to me? Why am I so fucking useless? Why? Why? Why?_

Frank clenched his fists. No way he was giving Clarice up so easily. There was something he could do. It'll probably bring the house down on him, but he couldn't care less.

He'd make Jacques Viler regret his actions.

Frank ran towards the hangar where his _Night Gyr_ was stored, his mind in a whirl. He'll take the mech into Avalon City and force Jacques at gun point to return Clarice to him. Then the two of them will take off. He'll bring her to Outreach, and damn the consequences. He'll probably also have to arrange for some way for his parents on Lackland to leave, but he decided he'll worry about that later.

Frank knew he wasn't making much sense, even to himself, but he couldn't give a damn by this point. They had forced his hand, and by God, they were going to pay!

The _Night Gyr_ was in good condition, since Frank was able to hire a technician and a small security crew to keep it in good condition and also to prevent it from being stolen. Added to the spaceport's own security force, the _Night Gyr _was in safe hands. He flashed his ID to the security personnel standing guard in a small booth equipped with video feeds just outside the hangar, and they nodded to let him pass. Thankfully, none of them questioned why he was checking on his mech in the very early morning.

_They will, _Frank thought, _once I get into the cockpit._

He opened a side door in the hangar, and groped around for the hangar lights for a moment before he found them. He switched on the lights, and whistled for the umpteenth time as he looked at the gleaming shape of his Omnimech. It was painted in the black with white accents pattern of the MIB, the stark contrast of the colors making the mech stand out anywhere.

After the latest simulation on Outreach, Frank had reconfigured his mech slightly. While the right arm still held a gauss rifle, the left arm now held a large pulse laser. Four medium lasers and an extended range large laser completed the direct fire armament, while an ATM nine rack provided missile firepower at all ranges. He had also plugged in a few extra double heat sinks to handle the heat buildup, though the mech still ran a bit too hot at times. Hot enough to cook him.

And if he needed to avoid getting cooked, he would need to suit up.

Frank reached into a nearby closet for his mechwarrior combat suit. He had splurged a great deal of his remaining meager savings on a suit since he had seen their effectiveness on Einstein, and it had been one of his better purchases.

He changed into the suit quickly, and tossed his clothes onto a nearby workbench. The guards watching the cameras should have gotten the hint by now, and would be scrambling to stop him.

Frank zipped up his suit as he walked up to the ladder leading to the _Gyr_'s cockpit. Just as he started climbing, a guard ran in through the same side door he had used.

"Hey, what're you doing?" The guard asked.

Even though Frank owned the mech, using a battlemech on New Avalon was not allowed unless in the presence of select AFFS personnel. The guards were as much for the security of the _Night Gyr_ as they were for the security of New Avalon itself.

Frank said nonchalantly, "I'm taking this baby out for a spin."

The guard drew his sidearm. "I can't let you do that sir!"

Frank threw the man a forced grin, "Hey, it's just for a little while. Wouldn't hurt." Meanwhile, a part of his mind counted the number of rungs left to the cockpit. _Almost there now._

"Sir! Stop where you are, or I'll shoot!" The guard shouted out in warning, and he raised his sidearm, a slug pistol.

Frank did not wait, propelling himself past the last few rungs into the open cockpit through the hatch. He slammed the hatch shut just moments before the first shots started banging off the thick armor of the _Night Gyr_'s head section. The guard stopped shooting, obviously knowing that his pistol had no chance of getting through the _Night Gyr_'s armor.

Glancing down at the guard shouting excitedly into his commset, Frank had no doubt he was calling for backup. Mech support, probably. He could see the guard through the plexiglass on the front of the _Night Gyr_, and the guard could also see him right back.

He planned to be away before the spaceport patrols arrived.

Frank ran through the startup sequence of the _Night Gyr_. He regretted having to push the engine through a cold start, but it could not be helped.

Just as the mech reported full readiness, there was a sudden explosion from outside the hangar, stunning both guard and mechwarrior.

Frank stared at the guard, and the guard stared right back at him for a few seconds, before Frank took his hands off his triggers and held them up in confusion for the guard to see. _Wasn't me! It wasn't me!_ Frank waved his arms in denial.

The guard held his headset to his ear, while holding up an upraised palm towards Frank, as though asking him to wait. Frank saw the guard nod several times, before he turned back to the _Night Gyr_.

Frank toggled on the external pickups, as well as the speaker system, so that he could communicate with the guard. The sound of more explosions outside could be heard very clearly.

A battle was going on.

The guard started shouting, "The spaceport is under attack by unknown mechs! They're attacking the spaceport patrols!"

"Yeah," Frank said, "But where does that leave me?"

"Are you in cahoots with them?"

Frank blinked. "Excuse me, I'm not exactly being very hostile here!"

"Well, for all I know, you could be a deep plant to attack from the inside!"

"Hey, if I really was working for the attackers, would I be sitting here arguing with you?"

The guard paused for a while, rubbing his chin while thinking, before admitting, "Good point."

"I'm getting out of here!" Frank didn't know what exactly was going on, but he had no wish to be wandering around in a battle without several inches of hardened mech alloy between him and any incoming attacks.

Besides, the _Night Gyr_ was powered up, and he could use the attack as a cover to get Jacques instead…

_Oh no… _Frank groaned. Jacques would probably be in his own mech once he got news of the attack. And that in turn would mean he had little chance of getting Jacques to return Clarice to him.

What the heck, he'll get out of the hangar and see what's going on instead.

Frank toggled for his laser weaponry, and triggered his lasers at the flimsy hangar doors, while the guard ducked out of the way. The doors melted under the caress of the energy beams, forming a pool of metal on the ground as the _Night Gyr_ started moving out of the hangar.

Even though the spaceport was a very big place, especially with all the hangars and extra runways for intercontinental aerospace flights, Frank could see the glow from the distance of fire and explosions.

_Stay here, go to the city and hunt down Jacques, or find out what's going on here? _Frank clutched his triggers tightly, unable to make a decision. If only the situation wasn't so damn confusing!

Then a blue and gold painted _Jackal _appeared, and fired at him with its PPC.

The bolt passed to the left of the _Night Gyr_, and Frank reflexively fired back with his full ranged armament of a gauss rifle and two large lasers. There was a slight jerk from the mech as the gauss slug left the barrel.

The _Jackal_ staggered as the gauss slug slammed into it's shoulder, sending a shower of metal chips raining on the ground, while the pulse laser played over its legs. The extended range laser missed high. The light mech staggered from the hits, and limped away back into the cover of several buildings.

"Attention, _Night Gyr_!" The call came over the open channel, "Identify yourself!"

Frank noticed a _Sentry _missing an arm marching from another direction, painted in the colors of the Davion Guard.

Unwilling to trust his eyes, since false colors could always be used, Frank kept his hands on his triggers, moving his targeting sights onto the _Sentry_. _One false move, buddy, and you get it._

Frank answered the previous question, "Frank Meronac, Mercs in Black. I'm visiting my friends."

"A merc with a clan omnimech?"

"Yeah, what's it to you?" Frank rolled his tongue around in his mouth nervously, while trying to gauge the other man's sincerity. "And who are you?"

"Lieutenant Julio Winward, Davion Guard. We just got bushwhacked by what seems to be the Fifth Fed Com. They landed in an _Union_, and waited until our patrols passed by before suddenly cutting loose with their dropship's weapons. Damn near wiped us out. I managed to get a reinforced lance out, but they're coming with us with two lances each of mechs and vehicles. I guess their infantry is securing the rest of the spaceport." Despite his words, the man's tone was calm, as though he was discussing the weather instead of a battle for his life.

"So what do you want?" Frank asked. Julio seemed to be telling the truth, and the battered state of his mech was also quite convincing.

"Simple. You're a merc, and I'm willing to hire you now to help us defend the spaceport. Full repair and ammo reimbursement. 20,000 C-bills. How about it?"

That was already quite a deal, but Frank also knew that the defenders were in desperate straits. He decided to press his luck. "Raise it to 30,000 C-bills, or I'll signal to the Fifth Fed Com I'm sitting this out." By right, as part of the MIB, he wasn't supposed to offer individual contracting, but Frank figured this was a special case.

"Fine. 30,000 C-bills." Julio agreed easily. "Deal?"

"Deal." Frank made sure he had recorded the exchange on his systems. It was one of the first things he was taught in the OMTC. "So what next?"

The _Sentry_ started to move, and Frank followed it into a cluster of buildings. Julio started briefing Frank, "The bogeys fanned out from the dropship in a sweep pattern. They don't seem to be straying far from the _Union_, and we don't have enough firepower to take the dropship. What we can do is to hunt down the mechs and vehicles, leaving them with only the area controlled by the dropship's guns. Also…" Julio suddenly paused. "Wait one."

They pressed on, while the fighting seemed to have reached a lull. Julio came back on, "Blake's Blood! The Fifth Fed Com just landed more than a battalion into Avalon City!"

Frank wasn't stupid, and he understood immediately. "They need to secure the spaceport for their ticket offworld. That's why they attacked here first."

"That's right. Okay, this is going to be tricky. We need to hit the spaceport elements here hard enough so that they are tied up here and not able to head into the city for support. That means we have to take down at least two lances down. Think you can cut it, merc?"

"Cover my back, and we'll see." Frank licked his lips nervously. This was going to be a long night. "Let's hunt for that _Jackal_ first."

"Watch out, they operate in two mech elements," Julio warned.

"Roger that." Frank glanced at his radar screen. "Picking up two bogeys, approaching fast at 4 o'clock!"

"I see them." Julio spun his _Sentry_ around, as the two emerged from the building cluster.

Frank saw the _Jackal_ from the first exchange of fire, accompanied by a _Javelin_. The enemy mechs charged straight at Julio's _Sentry_, firing off their weapons and ignoring his _Night Gyr_. They were obviously trying to put down the more damaged opponent first.

Julio ducked his mech back into the buildings for protection, while Frank fired at the _Jackal_. His large pulse laser pounded the mech mercilessly, while his medium lasers all missed. The _Jackal_ and the _Javelin _continued to close in at top speed, and Frank started the _Night Gyr _walking backwards.

"Those light mechs are getting brave here!" Frank called out.

"I know. Don't worry, they can't do much to that beast of yours." Julio started to snipe with his PPC from within the building cluster.

"That wasn't very comforting!" Frank yelled as the _Jackal_ closed to a mere hundred meters.

The _Jackal_ fired its shoulder mounted PPC at Frank, the static discharge from the back of the PPC barrel silhouetting the mech in blue actinic light.

The bolt splashed on the _Night Gyr_'s right arm, and Frank replied with a full barrage of lasers, followed by a dose of standard ATM missile fire. Half the lasers hit, opening up the _Jackal_'s innards for the ATMs to take advantage of. The missiles tore into the _Jackal_, and the light mech collapsed in the midst of its run as its engine died under the barrage, sliding to the ground in a pile of metal wreckage.

Frank gasped as the heat in his cockpit spiked, and he had to slam down hurriedly on several shutdown override switches to prevent the _Gyr_ from becoming a sitting duck.

The _Javelin_ didn't flinch from the loss of its companion, and came on bravely. It sprayed a swarm of missiles at the _Night Gyr_, while enduring fire from Julio's _Sentry_. The PPC flensed off armor on the _Javelin_, but it was hardly slowed by the damage.

Frank rode out the missile impacts, then triggered his jump jets at exactly the same moment as the Javelin. _What the heck?_ Frank thought as he pressed on his foot pedals.

The two mechs floated up into the sky almost side by side, and Frank frantically pushed one of his side jets to spin _the Night Gyr_ to face the _Javelin_, which was already firing another salvo of missiles at him, which all missed. He fired his pulse laser at the apex of his flight, and luckily struck the _Javelin_ on its head.

Due to his impromptu turn in mad air, Frank was barely able to keep the _Night Gyr_ upright when it landed, sliding on its feet to an uneasy halt just centimeters away from crashing into a storehouse. The _Javelin_ was unluckier, clattering into a building as it landed in a cloud of cement and flying metal. Frank figured his shot had rattled the enemy mechwarrior.

Julio charged at the _Javelin_, firing off the array of weapons in his left arm, the PPC and several machine guns. The _Sentry_ sprayed the _Javelin_ relentlessly with the machine guns, while Frank added his own lasers to the barrage. The _Javelin_ tried to extricate itself from its surroundings, but eventually collapsed under the weight of their combined fire.

"Two down." Frank crowed in satisfaction.

"Head for the main terminal." Julio ordered. "My boys are trying to hold them off. If we hurry, we might be able to catch them from the rear."

"I'm taking point." Frank punched up the magnification on a side display.

The two mechs ran for the main terminal, which was almost 3 kilometers away. A cracking of static over the frequency channel did not bode well for the remaining members of the spaceport garrison.

Without warning, the _Night Gyr_'s sensors screamed of a missile lock. _Shit!_ Frank thought he saw a _Trebuchet_ on the magnification screen.

"Incoming!" Julio yelled as a flight of thirty missiles rained on them.

Frank stomped on his foot pedals, lifting the _Night Gyr_ in an attempt to fly above the missile trajectory before they were able to adjust for the _Night Gyr_'s flight.

Some of the missiles were able to adjust in time, while the others smashed into the ferrocrete ground of the spaceport in a series of loud explosions.

Julio had not been targeted, and he quickened his pace, trying to draw in nearer to the _Trebuchet_ within the LRM's minimum range.

Frank compensated for the few missile hits easily, and followed Julio's lead. The _Trebuchet_ did not seem worried about Julio, and the reason became apparent a few moments later as a _Hatchetman _appeared from nowhere to plant its namesake weapon into the _Sentry_, burying the weapon deep into the Sentry's torso.

The _Sentry _almost fell from the impact of the _Hatchetman_'s attack, but Julio suddenly grabbed the _Hatchetman_ with the left arm of his _Sentry_, and triggered his jump jets.

The crazy maneuver sent both mechs crashing to the ground even as the _Trebuchet_ let loose with another salvo of missiles, this time at the _Sentry_, apparently not worried about its lancemate. Frank aimed carefully, and fired his gauss rifle and several lasers at the _Hatchetman_.

As the _Trebuchet_'s missiles rained down on and around the two struggling battlemechs, Frank watched with a sickening feeling in his stomach as the center of the _Sentry _suddenly started to glow on his IR scans. His shots had smashed into the _Hatchetman_, but it did not seem to distressed as it swung its axe around for another swipe at the _Sentry_. It needn't have bothered.

"Argh!" Julio screamed over the comms, nearly deafening Frank with his death cry. The glow from the _Sentry_ intensified into a nova hot blaze.

The _Sentry_'s fusion engine failed catastrophically, and the ensuing explosion engulfed the _Hatchetman_ as well, leaving the two mechs in a twisted and mangled pile of metal. It would take the salvage teams days to sort out the two mechs.

Frank shut out the man's death from his mind. There was still the _Trebuchet_.

The _Trebuchet_ looked to be in poor shape, its armor already in tatters. Frank fired off his ATMs at the medium mech. The _Trebuchet_ squared off against his _Night Gyr_, replying with its own LRMs.

The missiles passed each other in mid flight, even as Frank followed up with another dose of energy from his large pulse laser. The _Trebuchet_ tottered from the blows, while only a few of its missiles hit Frank.

The _Trebuchet_ tried to move back, but Frank pumped several laser beams at it, one of which snapped the _Trebuchet_'s legs off at the knee. Frank ran the _Night Gyr _up and stomped on one arm of the _Trebuchet_, squashing it into ruin even as he fed it several more pulses from his lasers. The _Trebuchet_ remained still on the tarmac. _That's for Julio._

Frank moved for the terminal at top speed, while toggling through the channels Julio had given him for communicating with friendly units. "This is Gyr One, calling spaceport garrison. This is Gyr One, calling spaceport garrison." The lack of a response bothered him.

_Don't tell me they're all dead, _Frank thought despairingly. "C'mon, somebody please respond!"

There was a crackling of static, before he heard a female voice reply, "This is Corporal Elinor Pion. Who is that on our line?"

Frank sighed in relief, before replying, "This is Frank Meronac in a _Night Gyr_. I'm a merc, and I just got hired by your Lieutenant Julio. He gave me this line to contact you guys."

"So where's Julio?" Frank thought he could hear the sound of autocannon fire in the background, which matched the sounds he was hearing from his cockpit. He was getting close.

"He bought it fighting a _Hatchetman_ a kilometer back. What's your status?" He swung his _Night Gyr_ round another building. Only a few tens of meters left to go, and he urged the mech faster.

"We've got two mechs and two tanks left, and we're being pinned down by 3 mechs and 3 vehicles. The PBIs are holding their own, but they won't be able to hold if we get taken down. We're not gonna hold for long!"

"Don't worry about that," Frank said, "The odds just got a lot more even." There was just one more building between him and the main terminal, which was itself a wart on the open tarmac.

He stomped on his pedals, jumping the _Night Gyr_ over the building and getting a clear view of the battlefield. He noticed a _Demolisher_ tank lurking in ambush around a corner for him, which he had foiled by jumping instead rounding the building.

Frank grinned humorlessly. He had anticipated that move, though apparently the Fifth Fed Com didn't.

Or maybe they did, as a _Wolfhound_ blasted him with its array of lasers, scarring armor on his arm. Frank ignored the _Wolfhound_, and fired at the _Demolisher_ instead. It was the most dangerous threat on the battlefield by dint of its tonnage and the two massive autocannons.

The gauss slug dug deep into the turret of the tank, and his pulse laser burned furrows in the tank's sloped armor before his ATMs slammed into the hapless vehicle. The high explosive ammunition of the ATMs inflicted massive amounts of damage, and the _Demolisher_ erupted as a missile managed to hit its ammunition stores.

His appearance and the loss of the _Demolisher_ seemed to have shaken the attackers' confidence, but they kept their nerve. There was the _Wolfhound_, a _Bushwacker_, and a _Blackjack_ for the Fifth Fed Com, supported by two _Goblin_ infantry fighting vehicles, moving resolutely in response to his attack.

The Davion Guards had a _Spector_, a _Centurion_, a _Myrmidon_ medium tank, and a battered _Drillson_ heavy hovertank, moving amongst the massive cargo and baggage crates piled up around the main terminal.

"Odds are even, Corporal Pion! Charge! Now or never!" Frank ordered in what he hoped was his strongest voice as he lit up a _Goblin_ tank with his ATMs on his landing, followed by a barrage of laser fire, while the three mechs of the Fifth Fed Com were drawing beads on him.

They fired, but their aim were thrown off as the Davion Guard surged to the attack, abandoning their cover for the open ground. The _Centurion_'s autocannon roared nonstop as it tore into the _Wolfhound_, ripping apart its torso in a shower of metal shards. The _Spector_ sent its lasers at the _Blackjack_, while the tanks concentrated fire on the _Bushwacker_, causing it to lurch drunkenly to one side.

That left Frank to face the firepower of the two _Goblin_ tanks, and Frank found that more preferable than facing any of the enemy mechs as he stood his ground, destroying the _Goblin_ damaged by his ATMs with his lasers before turning his guns on the other _Goblin_. It did not last long either, already damaged by the long battle with the Davion Guard.

He turned the _Night Gyr_ to assist the Guards, again relying on his lasers to tear apart the _Wolfhound_. Combat Loss Groupings, or in earlier times, the N-Squared Law, was definitely in their favor now, and the Davion Guards pressed their advantage ruthlessly.

The _Bushwacker_ went down next, under the combined firepower of the tanks and the mechs, while the _Spector_ finished off the _Blackjack_ with an audacious death from above maneuver.

"Thanks merc," Corporal Pion said breathlessly as her _Spector_ struggled to extricate itself from the remnants of the _Blackjack_. "But we've got more problems."

"The dropships?" Frank asked. "No way I'm getting paid enough to go up against them."

"No, that's not what I meant." The _Spector_ finally to walk away from the _Blackjack_. "The dropships can wait. What I want to do is to take our mechs and head into the city."

Frank couldn't believe her. "What about the infantry here?"

"Our tanks can help mop them up. It's the city I'm worried about. The Fifth Fed Com went in with more than two full battalions of mixed forces, and the troops we have there are definitely outnumbered."

Frank worked his fingers around his triggers, trying to loosen the tension in his joints. "My contract with Julio only stipulated that I help defend the spaceport."

"Okay then, how much more for accompanying us into the city?" Pion's voice was full of disgust, which Frank tried hard to ignore.

"40,000 C-bills, full repair and reload reimbursement." Frank checked his ammo loads. His sparing use of his gauss rifle and the ATM had been a good idea, since he had suspected that it would be a long night from the very start.

Frank could almost hear the grinding of teeth from Pion before she replied, "Okay, you'll get your money. Let's move out."

Major Eddie Tyler shoved his control sticks desperately to the side as he avoided a deadly barrage of particle bolts from a _Schrek_ PPC carrier. "This is Albion One-One, can somebody give me a hand here?"

"Heads up, Major," A beat-up _Stealth_ jumped past and unleashed a barrage of inferno rounds into the _Schrek_, burning the tank and immolating the crew inside. "Nothing kills tanks faster than some good ole hot rockets!"

Eddie grinned in response, moments before he spotted a mech moving silently in the shadow of a building. "Watch out!" He shouted in vain.

It was too late, as a barrage of autocannon rounds smashed into the _Stealth_. The volatile inferno ammunition exploded, turning the _Stealth_ into a massive fireball, sending tongues of burning mech everywhere, and lighting up the immediate vicinity.

"Fuck!" Eddie shouted in rage as his _Falconer_ faced off with the enemy _Cataphract_, firing off his ER PPC and gauss rifle.

Shortly after the attack on the spaceport, the members of the 1st Davion Guards, 1st Battalion, which was all they had covering Avalon City, had been roused from their sleep and sent to full alert status. Before they could sally forth to help defend the spaceport, some dropships had flown over and dropped more than two battalions worth of mechs and vehicles into the heart of Avalon City.

They had identified their attackers as the Fifth Fed Com, and that had sent chills up everybody's spines, as the Fifth Fed Com was an infamous unit that had used tactical nukes during the civil war, and disappeared from Marlette later on in the war.

Nobody wanted to think of the consequences should the Fifth Fed Com unleash one of their nukes on Avalon City.

As a result, his battalion had been forced into a do-or-die battle in the city, trying to eliminate every last member of the Fifth before they had any second ideas about not using their nukes. However, that also meant that the skill advantage of the Davion Guard did not count as much in the tight confines of the city. Oh, to be sure, there was also another reforming company of the Crucis Lancers present, but they were also being pressed hard.

"Albion One-One, this is Camelot One." Eddie's neurohelmet crackled with an incoming transmission. Camelot One was the designation given to the CO of the Crucis Lancers present, Lieutenant Colonel Jacques Viler. "Drop your battalion back three blocks. Your position is too exposed. The enemy is drawing you into a pincer."  
No matter what his personal feelings towards Jacques, colored by the constant tussle between Jacques and Frank for Clarice, Eddie knew Jacques was all business in battle, and one of the finest mechwarriors he had ever met. If there was a way to win this fight, Jacques would be the one to find it. Besides, Jacques had seniority on him, and thus held overall command of the Davion forces until Duke Tancred Sandoval or some other higher up arrived on the scene. Precentor Martial Victor Steiner-Davion, according to all reports, was being forced to stay where he was at the NAIS for his safety instead of marching out in his _Daishi_ to help, since nukes might be unleashed in the fight for the city.

"Roger that, Camelot One." Eddie answered, while exchanging a final volley of fire with the _Cataphract_. He noted with grim satisfaction that the heavy mech was left hobbling from his accurate PPC fire, which he had used to hit the legs repeatedly. He toggled over to the battalion channel, "Sword Bat, drop back three blocks to Galliard Street." The _Falconer_ marched back towards the designated rally point.

Eddie counted with dismay the replies to his command, as a secondary display toted up the remaining members of his battalion. The three full strength companies he had started out with had been reduced by a full company, though they had also given a good accounting of themselves in the merciless close quarters fighting, taking down far more enemy machines than they had lost. It was small consolation to Eddie.

_What is the Fifth thinking? _Eddie wondered. _What do they hope to accomplish with this attack? What the hell do they want? _He knew the top brass at HQ had been trying to contact the rogue unit, but none of their requests had been answered.

"Sir," One of his company commanders informed him, "The enemy is pressing us back in!"

Eddie only needed a glance at his radar to see the hostile units crowding back into his outnumbered battalion.

"Alright, Sword Bat, time to play chicken. Split into pairs and just stay alive." Eddie switched to the command channel. "Camelot One, they're feeling brave over here." He could see the _Cataphract_ coming back for a second round.

"Understood." Jacques replied almost immediately, though Eddie could hear that Jacques was having his own problems from the sound of missile explosions. "Hold your line while we sweep in from the flanks. If you can't hold out long enough for us, holler, then pull back."

"Gotcha." Eddie licked sweat off the area around his mouth. The precious moisture was salty, but after almost an hour of constant combat, Eddie didn't care. His XO, Captain Rosalind Cassara, was hopefully listening in from her _Cestus_. If he bought the farm, she'd have to lead the battalion.

The _Cataphract_ stepped out from behind an apartment black, and Eddie sent another of his precious gauss slugs and a particle beam at it. The shots hammered into the heavy mech, but it spat back with its own array of autocannons. The medium class ultra autocannon shaved armor off the _Falconer_'s legs, while the LBX shotgun autocannon sprayed a rain of metal at him.

Eddie walked the _Falconer_ in closer to the '_Phract_, into range of his medium lasers. Several years ago during the civil war, Eddie's mech had undergone several drastic changes. The medium lasers had been replaced by the extended range variety, while the myomers had been swapped out for triple strength fibers, which lent the _Falconer_ incredible close combat potential when running hot.

He fired his extended range medium lasers once they were in range, along with his PPC. He needed to get the _Falconer _hot, and this was the fastest way.

The _Cataphract_ leaned forward to counteract the loss of mass from its front as the energy beams played over its torso, while replying with its LBX cannon, again peppering damage all over the _Falconer_. Eddie noted that it did not fire its ultra autocannon. _Perhaps it had run out of ammo, _he thought, which was quite possible, considering that he knew he had only a ton of gauss ammo left himself.

The heat from his weapons fire washed over him, but Eddie ignored the uneasy feeling of sweat on his skin as he jumped the _Falconer_ right next to the _Cataphract_.

The '_Phract_ had charged forward fearlessly. It obviously didn't know Eddie's _Falconer_ was a modified version, and it kicked out with a leg even as Eddie swung his mech's stubby arms at the '_Phract_, while firing his lasers at point blank range.

The tremendous power provided by the triple strength myomers enabled the _Falconer _to literally crush the armor on the _Cataphract_, which spun to the ground from the incredible impact of the _Falconer_'s punches.

Eddie kicked out with the _Falconer_ at the fallen heavy mech, and the kick caved in the head section of the _Cataphract_. Eddie had little mercy for the butchers of Axton and Marlette, and he would shed no tears for the death of the members of the Fifth Fed Com.

"Bogeys at 2 o'clock!" Cassara yelled for attention.

Eddie saw the two approaching enemy mechs, and he cursed bitterly. A _Penetrator_ and a _Nightsky_. Both close in combat designs, and the hatchet on the _Nightsky_ neatly countered the advantages of his triple strength myomer.

Hoping to take down the more fragile _Nightsky_, Eddie fired his gauss rifle at it, but the jump capable mech ducked behind a building. If it used its jump jets to get around, there was no way he was going to avoid getting hit with a swipe or two from its hatchet.

"Albion One-Two," he shouted for Rosalind, "watch for that _Nightsky_! I'll take the _Penetrator_!" He didn't wait for Rosalind to reply, trusting her to do her job.

The _Penetrator_ attacked with its lasers, scouring armor off the _Falconer_. Eddie kept the _Falconer _at a distance from the _Penetrator_, wary of the barrage of medium pulse lasers it was capable of. His own armor was getting a bit threadbare from all the action, and couldn't hold up for much longer.

He fired back with his medium lasers, saving his gauss rifle and ER PPC for a knockout punch. The lasers liquefied alloy on the _Penetrator_, sending molten rivulets down the mech's sides, but it was hardly deterred, its fresh armor apparent to any observer.

Cassara's voice came in, "Sir, you're within striking range of the _Nightsky_!"

Eddie pulled his mech back, but the _Nightsky_ chose that same moment to rocket up from behind a building, and headed straight for his _Falconer_.

Eddie stomped on his own foot pedals, leaping the _Falconer_ into the air on fiery trails of plasma, trying to avoid the _Nightsky_.

The _Nightsky_ pilot seemed to throw caution to the wind. Instead of using the last of his jump thrust to cushion his landing, he went straight for Eddie's mech, the hatchet raised high for a blow.

The _Nightsky_ smashed into the _Falconer_ in a bone-jarring collision in midair, even as its hatchet chopped into Eddie's mech. The entangled mechs fell to the ground in a heap, while Eddie tried desperately to regain control of his mech.

He slammed into his command crouch as the _Falconer_ landed heavily on its right, crumpling the last of his armor on that side. The _Nightsky_ amazingly managed to stay on its feet, but was sent reeling back as Cassara fired at it with her gauss rifle and large lasers. She in turn was attacked by the _Penetrator_, advancing quickly to take advantage of the two on one situation while the _Falconer_ laid on the ground.

Eddie's head swam for a while, his breath knocked out of him by the fall. He could sense the menacing presence of the _Nightsky_ nearby, about to swing its hatchet down onto his cockpit.

He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, and slammed his throttles, hoping for a lucky hit on the _Nightsky_. He managed to look at his displays in time to see the Nightsky evading the clumsy flail of his _Falconer_, raising its hatchet high for a fatal blow.

"Here comes the cavalry!" Somebody shouted. All of a sudden, the _Nightsky_ was covered in explosions from missile fire. Really big explosions. Bigger than even the explosions from short ranged missiles. The _Nightsky _flopped back as its engine shut down from excessive damage.

Eddie glanced at his side screens, only to see a black colored _Night Gyr_ approach, along with a _Spector_ and _Centurion_ in the colors of the Davion Guard.

"What's going on?" Somebody asked, and Eddie thought he was still in a daze when his brain placed the voice as belonging to Frank. _Nah, can't be,_ he insisted to himself, and went back to getting the _Falconer_ upright.

The _Penetrator_, which had been charging forward, suddenly found itself outnumbered four to one. It started backpedaling for dear life, only for the defending forces to pour on the fire. Even Eddie managed to lever the _Falconer_ up enough for him to contribute a particle bolt to the cause.

The _Penetrator_ never stood a chance, not against three heavies, a medium, and a light mech. Fire belched from a side rent in its squat torso as the engine failed from the punishing bombardment.

Eddie slowly got the _Falconer_ to its feet. "Okay troops, report." He ordered.

The _Spector_ stood before his mech, as though reporting for duty like a cadet at an academy. "Albion One-One, this is Corporal Elinor Pion from the spaceport. We managed to fight off the attacking forces, and proceeded here to help out."

"You managed to beat off the enemy forces from the spaceport?" Eddie asked incredulously.

"Uh, roger that, sir. Actually, we had help." The _Spector_ raised a hand in the direction of the black _Night Gyr_. "This merc appeared to give us a hand. We had to promise him a few things though."

"Which is entirely fair, corporal." The same voice Eddie had heard earlier spoke again. It sounded suspiciously like Frank.

Eddie resisted the temptation to release his grip on the triggers and rub his eyes. He realized the events of the night were finally getting to him. "Okay, this is the first piece of good news I've had in a while. So what's your name and unit, merc?"

"Frank Meronac, MIB." Eddie nearly choked on his saliva.

"Frank? What the fuck are you doing here?" Eddie literally shouted.

"Eddie?" The surprise on Frank's side was also quite clear. "Uh oops. Heh, guess you finally found out what mech I jockey nowadays, huh?" Frank's voice was strangely nervous.

That made Eddie extremely wary. "Wait a minute. If you were in a mech, and I'm not disputing that it isn't yours, then what were you doing at the spaceport at this hour?"

The reply came back rather slowly, which Eddie had half expected. "Uh, I was just checking up on my mech. Can't I?"

The pieces finally clicked into place for Eddie. He slapped a gloved hand on his neurohelmet. "Don't tell me, it had something to do with Clarice and the fire."

The uneasy cough from Frank told him all he needed to know.

Eddie sighed in exasperation. "Never mind. I don't want to know. I don't need to know. Pretend I heard nothing. The same goes for all of you guys and gals listening in."

He switched to his business tone. "All right, down to the task at hand. Frank, you stick with me. That beast of yours is going to come in handy. Corporal Pion, I want your two mech element to seek out Lieutenant Colonel Jacques Viler of the Crucis Lancers, somewhere on Fleet Avenue. Assist in any way you can. Cassara, you'll still with me. Let's move out."

Frank was still trying to get used to Eddie being in charge when a sudden call came over the open channel.

It came while they were engaged with another group of enemy mechs and vehicles. Two medium mechs and two vehicles that were putting up stiff resistance on Apple Drive.

Captain Cassara had led the way with her _Cestus_, while Frank followed close behind, supplying a steady barrage of ATM missiles and laser beams. Eddie brought up the rear, his battered _Falconer_ being shielded from the worst of the battle by Frank's _Night Gyr_.

The two tanks went down quickly under the furious firepower of the mechs, while the mechs, an _Enforcer_ and a _Blackjack_, were sent in headlong retreat. They were about to pursue when the call came in, and told them that an already bad situation just got even worse.

"All units, this is Jackson Davion. Enemy forces, about a company of mechs in strength, have just entered the grounds of the NAIS. Chances are high they are hunting the Precentor Martial. All units capable of responding, please proceed to the NAIS ASAP." The call was repeated again, but Frank tuned it out.

He stared numbly at his secondary screens. Just as they were getting the upper hand in the battle for the city…

A diversion, his mind rationalized, all a big diversion. The attack on the spaceport, the attack on the city. Those were simply diversions to draw off the bulk of the defenders away from the real targets, either Precentor Martial Victor Steiner-Davion or Yvonne Davion.

Frank ruled out Yvonne. If they had wanted to go after Yvonne, they would have dropped on the Royal Palace, not the NAIS. That left Victor Davion.

"All units, this is Camelot One!" Frank grimaced as he heard Jacques Viler's voice. "I want all currently unengaged units to report, immediately! Give me your weight class and condition!"

Eddie spoke first, "This is Albion One-One. I have three heavy mechs, one yellow, two green."

Frank raised an eyebrow. The _Cestus_ was in better shape than the _Falconer_, but not by much, while his own _Night Gyr_ had been through a lot already. The armor on the arms was almost gone. Three yellow condition mechs would be a fairer indication.

Several other units replied as well, but Frank could hear that most of them were in bad shape. He thought he could actually pity Jacques for being placed in such a position of such heavy responsibility.

Jacqques seemed to have made his choices. "Albion One-One, bring your unit over to the spaceport. Albion Three-Five, Albion Two-Six, you too. The rest of you, report to Albion Two-One for retaking the city."

"Excuse me, but shouldn't we be heading for the NAIS instead?" Eddie asked.

"I've got a better idea," Jacques answered confidently. "We're going to hitch a ride on a dropship."

Frank nodded despite himself. If they headed for the NAIS, they would be restricted to the speed of their slowest mechs, which could very easily be fifty kilometers per hour for an assault mech. By heading for a dropship instead, they could actually reach the NAIS in a shorter time. It was a very good idea.

But there was a slight problem.

"Uh, Eddie?" He asked.

"Yeah?"

"My contract with Corporal Pion was only for defending the city. If I'm to join you guys to save the Prince…"

"Ah, frak. Consider this a favor to me, okay? I'll owe you big. Really. This is important, Frank. Who knows, you might even get something from Yvonne! Title, land, blah, blah, blah."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay. Just remember, you owe me!" If only there was some way he could leverage this into a title…

Frank shook away those thoughts. First things first. He only hoped they would make it in time. The _Night Gyr _continued running for the spaceport.

Victor Steiner-Davion hopped Prometheus to one side to avoid a swarm of enemy missile fire as he fought back with his array of lasers, the energy beams whipping across a massive _Atlas_, sending it staggering back with heavy damage on the torso and arms.

In hindsight, he would have been better off if he had marched his _Daishi_ into Avalon City to assist in the battle for the city, instead of being trapped on the grounds of the NAIS by an entire heavy/assault company.

The enemy company had dropped into the NAIS from a hovering Union-class dropship, while he had been following the battle for the city from the cockpit of his _Daishi_. Galen Cox and two more Com Guard mechwarriors had also mounted their machines, ready to move out. If not for that, Victor was sure he would have been a smear on the ground already, as the Fifth Fed Com company had targeted his residential suite the moment they had dropped in.

Beside him, Galen Cox fought on in his _Devastator_, exchanging gauss slugs with a _Gunslinger_. One of the two Com Guard warriors had already fallen, although Rudolph Shakov's _Exterminator_ was apparently still making a pest of itself, even when surrounded by several heavy and assault mechs.

Still, they had not taken down any enemy mechs yet, and Victor knew it was only a matter of time before they were overwhelmed. But he refused to go so easily. Not if he had anything to say about it.

A _Quickdraw_ jumped into close range, and Victor took the opportunity to press on the trigger for his super heavy ultra class autocannon. The _Quickdraw_ had fired with its array of lasers and missiles, chipping away more of Prometheus' armor, but with Victor's deadly aim and steady hand on his autocannon, the replying shells tore the heavy mech apart.

_One down_, Victor noted. _Eleven more to go._

A gauss slug dug deep into Prometheus' leg, and Victor struggled to keep the mech upright from the impact as a volley of shots followed it in.

Victor recovered in time to send his _Daishi_ in a half hop, half run for the meager cover of a small clump of trees, while the attacks tracked along the path of his run.

Galen tried to cover him, but his _Devastator_ was sent to its knees by a salvo of missiles from a _Longbow_. Victor gritted his teeth. _Is this how it all ends? _He thought to himself. _Alone, cut off from my friends, my family?_ _My men dying around me? _As always, he was half tempted to just give up, to let his enemies kill him, and join his beloved Omi in the afterlife.

But he was a Davion, and he would never give up his life without a good fight first. Omi would also expect him to fight as hard as he could for his life before surrendering it. And there was young Kitsune…

Death would have to wait for him to see his son with his own eyes first before claiming his life.

Victor led the mechs of the Fifth Fed Com on a merry chase on the campus of the NAIS, aware that Galen and Rudolph were barely hanging on in their mechs. He knew he was the main target anyway, and Victor resolved to keep his friends alive for as long as possible by leading away the enemy units.

A _Banshee_ finally managed to corner him, firing with its PPCs and gauss rifle. Victor shrugged off the blows, firing back with a storm of energy bolts that tore into the _Banshee_, but which left him vulnerable to attack from the rest of his enemies.

A series of missile and gauss hits sent Victor reeling, but he refused to go down, replying with his autocannon and missiles back at his foes. He pressed down on the stubs for his pulse lasers, pulling the barrels from side to side as he washed them over the enemies closing in.

Then the _Longbow_ suddenly exploded. The _Banshee_ was next to suffer under a hideous hail of autocannon fire, lurching from side to side as it tried to evade the storm of shells from somewhere behind it.

Victor grinned as he saw Tancred Sandoval's _Templar_ march up behind the enemy company, its RAC barrels a brilliant glare of flame as it continued blazing away at the enemy machines.

"Welcome to the show, Tancred," Victor said thankfully, while firing at the _Banshee_, which finally went down with a cored torso.

"Sorry for taking so long, but I had to convince Yvonne before she allowed me to come. And I'm all you're getting for the next few minutes."

"Don't be too sure, my Duke." A voice broke in, which Victor recognized as belonging to Jacques Viler of the Crucis Lancers. "This is Camelot One, and I've got six mechs about to drop right on top of the NAIS. Just give us some cover on the way down."

"Got it," Victor went all out with Prometheus' weapons, which savaged the enemy unit and sent them flinching momentarily. Victor knew he was driving the _Daishi_ close to the red line, but he didn't have a choice by this point. The heat in his cockpit threatened to overcome him, but he focused his concentration on the battle, driving the concerns of his immediate surroundings from his mind. He barely noticed the return fire on his _Daishi_, instead firing his weapons with single-minded attentiveness.

Two _Leopard_ class dropships flew by overhead, almost skimming the top of the NAIS buildings, and Victor could see the mechs stepping out from the dropship bays and dropping to the ground.

The _Daishi_ was hit hard again, and this time Victor was unable to keep it upright as the mech landed hard. Blinking yellow lights on his console warned of armor breaches all over the omnimech, while a bank of red lights told of actuator damage to Prometheus.

The enemy mechs tried to get at him, but they were firmly rebuffed by the newly arrived mechs, many of which did not look to be in good condition themselves. It looked to be a matter of time before the reinforcements were crushed themselves.

Victor gently coaxed Prometheus, trying to get it to stand up. If he had to die, he'd do it on his feet.

Frank was amazed at the sheer madness and fury of the battle as the scratch force Jacques had desperately assembled slammed into the Fifth FC company.

Jacques' own _Nightstar_ was badly pitted and gouged, but it carried the fight into the midst of the enemy, heedless of the damage it was taking. It fired its gauss rifles continuously, all guns blazing as it waded into the enemy formation.

Jacques had been furious for all of two seconds when Frank had turned up at the spaceport, before grudgingly accepting his presence. "One more mech, one more warrior as fodder," he had said then.

It wasn't as though any of them had a choice in the matter.

And if the battle thus far had been brutal, this must surely be the endgame climax. Facing the relatively fresher mechs of the Fifth Fed Com, Jacques exhorted his weary troops onward, leading by personal example.

Even Eddie seemed to have gone berserk, his _Falconer_ slamming into a _Caesar_ and punching wildly with its arms. The _Caesar_ replied with gauss shots at point blank range, and its PPC barrel clubbed the _Falconer_ around the torso in desperation.

The Fifth Fed Com had replied in the same vein, and physical attacks now seemed to be the order of the moment as assault and heavy mechs went toe to toe with one another.

Frank fired off the last of his ATMs at an _Atlas_, then braced himself as the _Atlas_ fired back with its full arsenal. The _Night Gyr_ shook like a doll from the impacts, and Frank swallowed hard as he saw the red lights on his console begin to blink on.

The _Atlas_ came on determinedly, its massive fists clenched and ready to bash Frank into snail snot. There was no room left to maneuver, but he still had his jump jets.

Frank flew over the _Atlas_, moments before it could reach him with its hands. There was no way in the world he was going to stand up to a punching match with a mech 25 tons heavier.

He spun the _Gyr_ around in time to catch another salvo from the _Atlas_. The _Gyr_ staggered back, while Frank fired back with his gauss rifle, noting with dismay that he had only two shots left for the gauss.

An explosion to his left signaled the death of a friendly unit, and Frank stumbled back from the onrushing _Atlas_, which had turned around and seemed intent on using his _Gyr_ as a punching bag. He didn't walk back far enough, as the death head of the _Atlas_ zoomed large in his sights.

Frank went for an alpha strike with his remaining weapons, his ATM rack having run empty already. The _Atlas_ staggered as the beams punched into its internals, and Frank could see the missile rack tubes in the torso turn into slag from the impact of his lasers.

Then the _Atlas_ swung a big fist at him.

Frank flinched in his seat, trying to press himself deeper into his command couch when the metal fist filled his front view. He found himself screaming as the front of his cockpit was literally crushed, the console crumpling and moving towards him from the force of the impact.

Shards of glass and metal flew from the front of his shattered cockpit, spraying him in a shower of broken shrapnel. Frank gasped in pain as he found the thin slivers cutting through his combat suit, nicking him on his throat, arms and legs. Several more clattered off the visor of his neurohelmet. Spots on his suit started to leak bright green fluid from where the slivers had cut the coolant lines.

The _Night Gyr_ fell back from the force of the punch, and Frank simply pressed hard on his triggers, trying to put down the _Atlas_ before it could finish him off.

The _Atlas_ stumbled, obviously also heavily damaged by his shots, but Frank could see that it was preparing for a coup de grace as it aimed its gauss barrel at his broken cockpit.

Then a gauss slug suddenly flew from its center torso from the back. The _Atlas_ seemed just as stunned as Frank was, before twisting down and crashing to the ground like a gunfighter shot from the back.

Frank felt the ground shudder as the _Atlas_ toppled right beside his fallen _Night Gyr_. He managed to lift the _Night Gyr_ to its feet, and saw Jacques' _Nightstar_, missing an arm and almost all of its armor, standing over the wreck of an _Awesome_.

"I don't like you, Meronac, but I'll be damned if I let anyone under my command get killed on my watch if I can help it." Jacques sounded tired and angry at the same time.

Frank did not reply, instead firing his gauss rifle and large lasers in the direction of the _Nightstar_, missing Jacques by a meter before slamming into an _Axman_ that had been trying to sneak up on the Crucis Lancer. The _Axman_, which had been trying to get close in enough to use its hatchet on the _Nightstar_, was pushed back from the impact of Frank's weapons, spoiling its attack.

"That's all the thanks you're gonna get, Jacques," Frank said as Jacques turned his _Nightstar_ around, the two of them concentrating fire on the _Axman_. "Let's finish this."

"Agreed."

The _Axman_ tried to fight back, but somebody had destroyed its autocannon earlier, and it was no match for an assault and a clan heavy. It took all of 30 seconds for Frank and Jacques to batter through to its engine, with Frank finishing it off with a laser spearing right through its chest.

Somehow, Galen Cox had managed to reenter the fray, his _Devastator_ firmly turning the tide in favor of the defenders. The Prince's _Daishi_ was missing its arms, but still on its feet and firing with its large lasers at extreme range, while Duke Sandoval's _Templar_ was missing a leg and propping itself up on one corner and sniping with its RACs.

There was only a demi-lance of the Fifth Fed Com left, and everybody knew it was over. The enemy mechs were too far away from Victor's _Daishi_ to take it down, and pressed hard between the _Devastator_ and Jacques' remaining units.

Eddie's _Falconer_ limped over as he regrouped with Frank and Jacques, the three of them all that was left of the reinforcing task force.

While Cox fought with an enemy _War Dog_, Jacques threw the three of them at the barely damaged _Pillager_ adorned with the markings of a general.

"It's Annette Leyland," commented Eddie. "Let's take her down!"

Frank triggered his last gauss round, the slug punching into the _Pillager_. However, his lasers all missed, as the image of the _Pillager_ suddenly seemed to waver in his sights.

"Watch out, that's a stealth _Pillager_!" Jacques warned as the _Pillager_ struck back with its gauss rifles. The gauss slugs smashed into the tottering _Nightstar_, and Frank found himself with mixed feelings as he moved his mech around to help cover his ally.

"Get in close, the stealth system doesn't work at close range!" Eddie shouted as his _Falconer_ took to the skies on its jumpjets, landing near the _Pillager_, which promptly turned its gauss rifles on Eddie, severing the arms from the _Falconer_.

Unable to compensate for the loss of so much structure, Eddie fell to the ground. Frank triggered his lasers in a blistering attack, trying to divert its attention away from Eddie. The _Pillager_ was starting to feel the effects of their attacks now, armor blow torching from Frank's attack. Jacques donated another gauss slug to the cause, along with a burst from his remaining pulse laser.

The _Pillager_ turned towards Frank's _Night Gyr_, and Frank could feel his guts wrenching themselves in fear as it sent its gauss slugs at him, hammering the _Gyr_. The already stifling heat in the cockpit suddenly rose up another notch, and Frank grimaced as he realized that his engine had just lost some of its shielding. Smoke was beginning to issue from the ruined circuitry in the cockpit.

Eddie wasn't out of the fight though, somehow climbing to its feet and blasting the _Pillager_ with its medium lasers.

The _Pillager_ turned back to Eddie, leaving the other two mechs to close in. Frank charged at the _Pillager_, gambling on the shock value of his attack to win time for Jacques to out down Leyland. "Cover me, Jacques, and be ready." Frank yelled out.

"Understood," Jacques grimly replied.

The _Pillager_ did not seem to have noticed his attack as it fired at Eddie's dying _Falconer_. The gauss slugs punched through to the _Falconer_'s core, and Frank saw Eddie eject from the _Falconer_ in a burst of smoke and fire from the cockpit.

Then he slammed the _Night Gyr_ into the _Pillager_, lowering a shoulder of the _Gyr_ into the broad curved chest of the _Pillager_. The two mechs went down, with the _Night Gyr _on top of the Pillager.

Sirens warned of further damage to the _Night Gyr_, but Frank ignored them as he fired his lasers right into the _Pillager_. The _Pillager_ replied with its gauss rifles mounted in its torso, and the groan of stressed metal from below him told Frank that his mech did not like that one bit.

A massive clawed hand from the _Pillager_ stabbed into the _Night Gyr_ in its side. Frank responded with a fist at the _Pillager_.

The _Pillager_ managed to get both arms under the _Night Gyr_, and pushed Frank off with a heave of screeching metal. Frank found himself flopping to the ground in a spinning motion, even as the _Pillager_ stood up, just in time to get caught in a crossfire from Cox and Jacques, the gauss slugs crushing the last of its armor on the torso.

Then a burst of laser fire from Prometheus stabbed into the _Pillager_, lancing into its center and puncturing the engine. The _Pillager_ stood very still for long moments, before its center began to glow white hot.

"Get out of there!" Jacques shouted.

Frank stumbled the _Night Gyr_ to its feet and lurched away barely seconds before the ensuing fusion explosion wiped out the _Pillager_ and everything around it in a 100 meter radius.

A hour later, Frank found himself sitting exhaustedly on a couch in the Princess Regent's office, along with a disheveled Eddie with one arm in a sling, and a bleary eyed Jacques with his head bandaged by swathes of gauze. They sat side by side, slightly shell shocked from the events of the night.

Frank himself had endured several minutes on a surgery table, having shrapnel plucked out from the various spots where the thin slivers of glass had pierced his skin. The wounds were covered with a fast sealing liquid adhesive that was an analog of bandages.

All three of them sipped slowly from their bottles of energy drink on the small table in front of them. They were so tired that they could not even talk to each other. Frank and Jacques, in  particular, did not even bother in engage in their usual mutual baiting. Frank didn't even have the strength to demand from Jacques Clarice's location.

The battle was over, and the Fifth Fed Com had been wiped out to the last man. Oh, to be sure, there were prisoners, but they were few in number. The enemy dropships had lifted off soon after, and jumped away from the system on an unidentified _Star Lord_ jumpship.

Jacques and Eddie had seen a shortlist of the casualty reports, and Frank could almost see their hair turning white from the bad news. He remembered his own shock and horror upon seeing the list of the dead and wounded after the final battle on Einstein.

They were supposed to be waiting for a debrief by the Princess-Regent herself, but Frank wondered why he was called up at all. He was just a hired merc. Sure, he knew Yvonne and Tancred personally, but this was an entirely different setting.

The door to the office opened, and Yvonne walked in with Tancred, followed by Victor Davion and Galen Cox.

In the presence of such luminaries, the three warriors stood up. Jacques and Eddie saluted smartly, Eddie using his good arm, while Frank bowed politely.

"Sit, gentlemen," Yvonne ordered. The men pulled up chairs so that all of them could be seated around the table.

"All right, so what do we know?" Yvonne asked.

Galen answered first. "At or around midnight, elements of the Fifth Fed Com landed in the Union class Scepter on the Lucien Davion spaceport. At 0100 hrs, they attacked, and almost seized the spaceport."

He continued, "At 0110 hrs, about a battalion of mechs and two combat commands made a combat drop into Avalon City. We could not be sure of their intentions, though their drives for the Royal Palace and the government sector forced us to oppose them."

"At 0200 hours, an assault company dropped into the NAIS. At last for this we can be sure they were hunting for you, Victor."

Victor Davion nodded. It was the first time Frank was seeing him in person, and while the former prince of the Federated Commonwealth was as short as the stories often described him, he also possessed an aura of steel that was unmatched in the room, even by Tancred Sandoval.

"So they were hunting me, but any ideas on who might have sent them?" Victor asked. "Somebody had to be harboring them, providing support."

Tancred answered him, "There are the usual suspects. Remaining Katherine loyalists would be my guess. Though there is another possible faction at work."

"The Word of Blake." Victor said dourly. "It would fit into their modus operandi. A strike, without anybody the wiser after the fact."

"Could be the Capellan Confederation," Jacques pointed out. "They fought hard. Very hard. Almost fanatical."

Now that Jacques had mentioned it, Frank remembered the _Trebuchet_ and the various running battles he had seen. The Fifth Fed Com had fought with a desperate strength that had almost overwhelmed the defenders.

"Maybe." Galen admitted, "But right now, all we have are possible suspects. It's pointless to play guessing games over who it could be when we can just investigate and find out for sure."

Everyone present nodded in agreement.

Frank cleared his throat, "Uh, forgive me for asking this, but why were Jacques, Eddie, and me asked here?

Yvonne replied, "Frank, the battle tonight was won only because of the three of you, and you saved the life of my brother. In recognition of your courage and devotion to the Federated Suns, I will award all three of you the Silver Sunburst."

Frank blinked. "Excuse me, but I thought I did negotiate a contract? How is that courage and devotion?"

Yvonne grinned, "Frank, be honest. Would you really have sat out the fight?"

Frank lowered his eyes to the table.

Yvonne continued to speak, "No, you would have helped out, contract or no contract. And that final action at the NAIS was taken without a contract. I think you deserved a reward in addition to the money."

"Thank you, your highness," Frank said. "So, what now?"

Tancred said, "Colonel Viler, Major Tyler, please go check on your men. Frank, you stay here. There're a few things we want to talk to you about."

Frank tried to ignore the inquiring stares of Jacques and Eddie as they left the office, leaving him under the eyes of four of the most important people in the Inner Sphere.

"What's going on?" Frank asked nervously.

Victor got up and sat down directly opposite him. "I'll cut to the chase. There's something I want you to do."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "And that might be?"

"What Galen said just now is very true. We need to find out who's behind the attack. My bet is on the Word of Blake, but intel on them is very sparse. We don't even know what the Word of Blake has been up to, or where they've been getting their mech units. We need somebody to go to Terra to find out what exactly the Word of Blake is doing there."

"Hold on, you're not suggesting that I be the one to go, are you?"

Victor nodded solemnly. "Yes, I want you to go to Terra."

Frank let his mouth hang agape for a moment before he asked, "Then why me? You have dozens of operatives from MIIO and ROM. Get them instead!"

Galen spoke now. "We can't. Operational security has obviously been compromised, and tonight's attack was only one more symptom of the problem. Instead of giving orders through our intelligence department, where they might get intercepted, you're going to answer directly to us. All you'll need is a new identity, which means a minimal paper trail."

"Okay, that tells me why you can't use your own agents. But still, why me _specifically_?"

Victor answered him this time. "One, you're loyal, or at least you're loyal to your friends. Two, you're a good mechwarrior. Not the best, I know, but your actions tonight convinced me you've what it takes. Three, you need to find out about the pyramid in the eye, and I can tell you that you'll probably find the answers on Terra."

"How did you know about the eye in the pyramid?" Frank glared at Tancred and Yvonne, but they simply shrugged in response.

"Don't blame them, Meronac." Victor said, "I've kept an eye on you since you arrived on New Avalon. The Illuminati, the organization of the symbol, is an ancient order. I suspect it might have ties to the Word of Blake and Comstar. But the only way to know for sure is for somebody to find them."

Frank sighed. "So you've given me three reasons why I should be the one to go. How about the most important one. What's in it for me?" Frank stared at Victor coldly.

Yvonne answered for Victor, "Frank, if you succeed in your mission, I'll grant you a noble title. I can spin it as an important service to the Federated Suns. And then you'll be free to get Clarice to marry you."

"Oh yeah?" Frank said bitterly. "All of you seemed to have planned this out very well, haven't you? Very well," he nodded, "Since you had put in so much effort to get me to go to Terra, I guess I can't disappoint you. I only need a few favors."

"Name them," Yvonne said.

He turned to Yvonne. "Your Highness, please help me keep an eye on Clarice. I want to see her when I get back. She's on Rostock, I think, probably her father's estates. I want to know if she truly wanted to break up with me, or if she had been forced into it." He wanted to see Clarice one last time before he left, but if she didn't even want to see him, then not even the Princess Regent could help him on this. So he settled for finding out her change of heart instead. It sounded trivial, but Frank didn't care.

"That's easy," Yvonne agreed, "You have my word on this."

"Also, I want Ian Calderon and Descartin Winters to be informed of my whereabouts." If anything happened to him, Frank wanted his sworn brothers to know who was responsible.

"That'll be more difficult to accomplish. But we'll find a way." Yvonne folded her hands on her lap. "Any more requests?"

Frank smirked. "Make sure my _Night Gyr_ is in good shape when I return. So when do I leave?"

Victor nodded to Galen, who stood and motioned for Frank to follow him. "Right now."

Duke Derrick Ferguson looked at his computer screen. _Interesting,_ he thought.

A person matching Frank Meronac's vital statistics had suddenly appeared in the citizenry database. Derrick was glad he had implanted the mole program in the planetary database, just in case he had ever needed it. The mole program would pick out people with specific characteristics and present their data to Ferguson. Right now, he stared at the data on one William Horry.

_Hmm… going to Terra, eh? _Derrick grinned in satisfaction. _Well, I can make sure you'll not trouble Clarice any more, Frank Meronac. And if you do survive, well, I'll be more than willing to grant Clarice to you._

He smiled, and reached for a phone.

_Geneva, Terra,_

_Chaos March,_

_20th August 3068_

Adept(actually Demi-Precentor, but the Word of Blake doesn't officially recognize the rank) Squidwarth stared at the class A priority message from their agents on New Avalon. It informed ROM of an enemy agent posing as a tourist to infiltrate into Terra and contact members of the guerilla resistance.

The name of the tourist was William Horry, though his real name was Frank Meronac.

Adept Squidwarth swallowed hard. As a secret high ranking member of the Illuminati, he knew the importance of Frank Meronac. It wouldn't do for the man to be killed by the… overly enthusiastic methods of the ROM interrogators, since that was the standard procedure for enemy spies.

Squidwarth could not change the fact of the man's arrest, since an 'Arrest on Sight' order had already been issued to the transit space stations at the zenith and nadir points. What he could do was to modify what came after the arrest.

He pulled up the list of things to do to the man, and changed the primary orders from 'Dig Everything Out' to 'Turn to the Cause', the mildest form of incarceration. He also deleted Meronac's real identity, and made a few other changes. When the ROM security agents capture Meronac, they would believe they were capturing a possible Unfinished Book religious subversive by the name of William Horry, and then put him through the Word of Blake's 'special program'.

Some operation to break Meronac out would have to be arranged, of course, but Squidwarth would leave that to his superiors. They'll probably arrange for the poor dupes in the resistance groups to do the job.

And as far as Squidwarth was concerned, that was the end of his involvement in the affair for the time being.

Whew! That was the end of the longest chapter I had ever written. I don't know, but I get the feeling this fic is taking on Robert Jordan-esque proportions. I didn't plan to take it to more than 14000 words, but the action just seemed to require that many words to write. Hell, 14000 words is already more than 10% of most BT novels!

I think I should be able to pick up on the pace of my writing for the next few sections, since I have a clear idea of where to go. Good music is also always helpful to helping me write. Chinese rock tunes are my current selections.

The love story sub plot was… I admit, soap opera level, but then again, bear with me. The emphasis is on Frank, after all, and his destiny, not his love life, though that will also take an important place in the story, and especially at the end of this novel. But until then, Clarice won't be appearing. Don't worry, she won't get killed off. But somebody else will be…

Frank survives this battle by dint of his mech. If it was anything else other than a cutting edge omnimech, he'd be dead. But from this point of the story on, he'll have to survive without such goodies. He'll have to fight as best as he can from _Wasps_, _Urbanmechs_(yes, _Urbanmechs!!!_), _Hussars_, _Sentinels_ and other mechs most protagonists wouldn't be caught dead in. The _real_ story starts from this point on for Frank.

Adept Squidwarth was a whimsical name _I_LUV_WOB_ used on the CBT forums(he blamed this particular adept for misleading him into praising Victor). I thought it would be nice to use the name, since it's real silly and such, as a way to inject a bit of humor into the end of this chapter.

Omi and Victor's son was named Kitsune by the writers, not me. Reference: Ghost War by Stackpole. In fact, I believe Kitsune referred only to 'fox spirits' in general, and not necessarily female ones. So there's no real error here(though it wouldn't be the first time).

Tancred got to the NAIS from the Royal Palace, because there's a secret tunnel from the Palace Armory to the NAIS. The most famous incident where it was used was in Warrior: Coupe.

The stats for the stealth Pillager 4Z can be found in Record Sheets: Upgrades. Warner Dole's personal ride, damn him! ;-)

Next chapter is the start of the Black Dragon Rebellion. I hope it won't be as long as this chapter! Please indicate in your reviews for this chapter whether you want long detailed fights like in this chapter, or shorter scenes. I'll try to write accordingly.

The one after that, chapter 10, takes us back to the Taurian Concordat. Chapter 11 will be Descartin's chapter. The next chapter for Frank would be 12. I arrange the chapters based on the dates, not on any real sequence on the names.

Just to give you guys a taste of what poor Frank is gonna face in chapter 12, here's the _Sphinx_, named after a reviewer's name which I find particularly suitable for this bruiser.

I dunno, but my characters always find themselves in bad and worse situations. Frank is the very first character to get his mech punched in the face by an _Atlas_. And the worst is yet to come, judging from the last few paragraphs. You should wonder what 'Turn to the Cause' means! ^_^

And as always, keep the reviews coming!

Type/Model:    Sphinx SPH-1X

Tech:          Inner Sphere / 3070

Config:        Biped BattleMech

Rules:         Level 2, Standard design

Mass:          100 tons

Chassis:       Skobel 40X Standard

Power Plant:   300 Toyota Fusion

Walking Speed: 32.4 km/h

Maximum Speed: 54.0 km/h

Jump Jets:     3 Rawlings 100 Standard Jump Jets

Jump Capacity: 90 meters

Armor Type:    Krupp 255 Standard

Armament:      

  2 Katyusha Arrow IV Systems

  4 Diverse Optics ER Medium Lasers

Manufacturer:  Skobel MechWorks

  Location:    Terra

Communications System:  Exeter Scanner 800

Targeting & Tracking System:  Garret T22A

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Overview:**

In 3067, the Word of Blake militia were less than impressed with their available artillery assets, consisting of Padilla tanks and Catapults, as well as a few purchased O-Bakemonos from the Draconis Combine.  
The Padilla tanks were sitting ducks in confined terrain, while the Catapults were often too fragile to fight off enemy units. O-Bakemonos were very costly, and the Word of Blake anticipated that their supply would be drying up soon anyway.  
So like many of their new designs, the Word of Blake placed their needs on the table, and left it to the various manufacturers on Terra to propose their designs.  
The winning submission came from Skobel Mechworks. Codenamed 'Sphinx', the new artillery mech was to prove yet another stunning entry into the ranks of the Word of Blake.

**Capabilities:**

The Sphinx is well equipped for its artillery duties, armed with two massive Katyusha Arrow IV launchers, as well as a staggering 6 tons of ammunition for the launchers. Borrowing a page from the O-Bakemono, the Arrow IV launchers could be reloaded with massive container shaped ammunition canisters, which takes only five minutes with a heavy cherry picker.  
4 extended range medium lasers provide reliable backup firepower in a pinch, with enough heat sinks to handle most of the heat debt by either set of weapons.  
In order to ensure the survivability of the Sphinx, the engineers at Skobel protected the mech with 17 tons of Krupp armor. While a bit weaker than most contemporary assault mechs, it is still a great deal more substantial than most heavy and assault designs.  
3 massive Rawlings jump jets enable the Sphinx to soar like its namesake across most types of terrain, which assists the mech in counter battery actions and artillery duels.  
The communications suite is also top notch, in order to help the Sphinx coordinate with spotting TAG units like the Red Shift and Spartan designs. Specially designed for the Sphinx, they can allow instant and secure communications over distances as far away as 300 kilometers.

**Battle History:**

Sphinxes were first reported in action during a Comstar guerilla raid on a prisoner convoy escorting prisoners away from Alcatraz Prison, New York State in North America.  
The guerillas were able to destroy the spotting TAG Blakist units, but the Sphinxes continued to rain down devastating Arrow IV fire until their escorting reloading units were wiped out by several Word of Blake mechs commandeered by the guerillas. Unable to reload their Arrow IV launchers, the Sphinxes withdrew from the battle.  
Sphinxes were a feared sight during the Word of Blake jihad, especially with special WMD ammunition loads. They were frequently the very first targets for any anti-artillery aerospace strikes.

**Deployment**

Since the liberation of Terra, Sphinxes have been sent to SLDF and Comstar units on the clan border. The Sphinx is proving an especially useful counter to the Clans' own Naga artillery mech.

--------------------------------------------------------

Type/Model:    Sphinx SPH-1X

Mass:          100 tons

Equipment:                                 Crits    Mass

Int. Struct.:  152 pts Standard              0     10.00

Engine:        300 Fusion                    6     19.00

   Walking MP:   3

   Running MP:   5

   Jumping MP:   3

Heat Sinks:     11 Double [22]               0      1.00

Gyro:                                        4      3.00

Cockpit, Life Supt., Sensors:                5      3.00

Actuators: L: Sh+UA    R: Sh+UA             12       .00

Armor Factor:  272 pts Standard              0     17.00

                          Internal    Armor

                          Structure   Value

   Head:                      3          9      

   Center Torso:             31         41      

   Center Torso (Rear):                 14      

   L/R Side Torso:           21      28/28      

   L/R Side Torso (Rear):              9/9      

   L/R Arm:                  17      30/30      

   L/R Leg:                  21      37/37      

Weapons and Equipment    Loc  Heat  Ammo   Crits    Mass

--------------------------------------------------------

1 Arrow IV System        RA     10   30     21     21.00

  (Ammo Locations: 3 LT, 3 RT)

1 Arrow IV System        LA     10          15     15.00

1 ER Medium Laser        RT      5           1      1.00

1 ER Medium Laser        LT      5           1      1.00

1 ER Medium Laser        CT      5           1      1.00

1 ER Medium Laser        HD      5           1      1.00

CASE Equipment:          LT     RT           2      1.00

3 Standard Jump Jets:                        3      6.00

 (Jump Jet Loc: 1 LT, 1 RT, 1 CT)

--------------------------------------------------------

TOTALS:                         40          72    100.00

Crits & Tons Left:                           6       .00

Calculated Factors:

Total Cost:        10,952,000 C-Bills

Battle Value:      1,600

Cost per BV:       6,845.0

Weapon Value:      1,756 / 1,756 (Ratio = 1.10 / 1.10)

Damage Factors:    SRDmg = 26;  MRDmg = 23;  LRDmg = 23

BattleForce2:      MP: 3J,  Armor/Structure: 7/8

                   Damage PB/M/L: 3/2/2,  Overheat: 3

                   Class: MA;  Point Value: 16

                   Specials: artA


	9. Winters

_The Black Dragon Society had long been regarded as a paper tiger by the various agencies of the Draconis Combine. An outgrowth of the extreme nationalist sentiments encouraged by generations of Kurita rulers, the Black Dragon Society reached its peak during the rule of Takashi Kurita, and served well in helping the people of the Combine withstand the attacks on their sovereignty in the age of the Federated Commonwealth._

_However, Theodore's military, social, and economic reforms, which had been even more crucial in strengthening the Combine, came to the fore after the Annihilation of the Smoke Jaguars. The Black Dragons were offended by his policies, and sought various ways to undermine the Coordinator's authority._

_From assassination attempts on the Kuritas and Victor Davion, to provoking the war against the Ghost Bears, the Black Dragons have grown in strength and influence after the events of 3062, when the Draconis March waged its own private war against the Combine._

_On one hand, the incident steered many observers into the Black Dragon camp, for they blamed Theodore's policy of non-aggression for the debacle. On the other hand, the Combine's eventual success served equally well in promoting the Black Dragons' ends, showing the strength of the Dragon against the disorganized Federated Suns._

_In 3068, they would finally pull out all the stops to depose of Theodore and his reign._

_-Lurking Beasts of the Draconis Combine, _Gus Michaels

_Imperial City, Luthien_

_Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine_

_20th August 3068_

Descartin was walking down the stairs for breakfast when an excited shout came from the living room. Following that was an exchange of loud talking between several voices, which he could recognize as belonging to Koji Tanaka and Atasushi Yanagisawa.

"What is going on?" Descartin asked as he entered the living room. The two men were sitting on the family sized sofa and staring intently at the holovid in a corner, while munching on their breakfast. "Koji, did Maeko not say something about eating on the sofa?" Descartin folded his arms in irritation.

The two of them did not even turn to look at him. "This is important. Big news!" Koji said as he increased the volume on the holovid.

The sounds from the holovid set became discernable words to Descartin, spoken by a woman. "Early this morning, rogue elements of the Federated Suns military launched an attack on the capital city of the Federated Suns. Massive damage has been wrecked on the city, and even the New Avalon Institute of Science was not spared from their suicidal assault."

Intrigued, Descartin sat down beside Koji, who shifted to allow enough room for Descartin to squeeze in on the sofa. He picked up a piece of bread from the platter before them, and started to eat while watching the holovid.

The image on the holovid was showing the wreckage of several battlemechs in the background, before shifting to a night scene with several mechs engaged in combat.

The female voice continued. "The 1st Davion Guards defended their capital bravely, and eventually triumphed, but not before suffering heavy losses. Here are some footage caught by our crews during this night of deadly battle."

Descartin nearly choked on his food when he saw a familiar black _Night Gyr _facing down an _Enforcer_, blasting away with lasers and ATMs, its special laser heat sinks flaring as they struggled to dispose of the heat buildup.

"What's wrong, Winters-san?" Atasushi asked.

Descartin stared as he watched the _Night Gyr_ force the enemy mechs into a retreat, then join up with a Davion _Falconer_ in a sprint for parts unknown. The commentary was back on and bragging about the bravery of the Davion mechs in defeating their enemies. Obviously, it was a wholesale recording from New Avalon.

"I know that _Night Gyr_," Descartin said softly after he had gotten his choking under control. He thought of Frank, his sworn brother after that ceremony on Outreach. Was he all right? Descartin took his vows very seriously, and if Frank had been hurt, somebody was going to pay.

He stood up from the sofa. "I need to go."

Atasushi blinked in confusion. "Winters-_san_, what's going on?"

"That _Night Gyr_," Descartin nodded towards the holovid set, "I know the pilot. I need to find out what happened to him, if he is fine."

"Wait a minute…" Atasushi said in vain as Descartin went up the stairs to his room and collected his duffel bag.

When Descartin went back down, he saw a confused Atasushi waiting at the base of the stairs. Koji, from the sounds issuing from the shop, was already at work.

"Why don't you just slow down and start from the beginning?" Atasushi asked as he followed Descartin out of the shop, with Descartin tossing quick nods at Koji and Maeko at the counter.

He stopped just outside the shop as Daisuke Ichikawa suddenly drew up in a car with Irene and Kitsune. Descartin remembered with a sinking heart that the plan for the day was slightly different, with Daisuke bringing Irene and Kitsune to rendezvous with him and Atasushi at the bread shop before setting off on whatever Irene had thought of, since Atasushi had boasted of his sister's products and Kitsune had wanted to try the breads.

He was not sure what he was going to say to her if he was going to leave.

"What's going on?" Daisuke asked as he saw Descartin with his duffel bag.

"Our temperamental clanner just went…" Atasushi finished his sentence by mimicking an explosion with his hands.

Irene and Kitsune had left the car as well. Descartin greeted them, while wishing he was anywhere else, because he did not know how he was going to avoid an awkward departure with them around.

"Descartin, what are you doing with the duffel bag?" Irene asked as she took one of his hands in her own. The touch sent tingles up Descartin's nerves, but he tried to ignore them.

"I was just…" Before he could complete his sentence, there was almost an audible click in his mind, a familiar sensation of danger, and before Descartin knew it himself, he was pushing Irene and Kitsune down onto the ground, covering them with his body.

There was a loud crack, and a bullet ripped through the space Kitsune had been standing barely a second before. It was followed by several long bursts from various automatic weapons.

Descartin only had one thought. _Sniper!_

Daisuke and Atasushi were already in motion, their weapons out and firing back at whoever had attacked them, even as they sought cover behind the car. Descartin hugged Irene and Kitsune into his arms as he ran for the cover of a nearby building. They ran into a small empty shop that was out for rental.

Daisuke had a Nissan-Nambu Series K automatic pistol, and he was firing it in burst mode, getting off 5 shots per squeeze of the trigger, in order to keep their attackers' heads down. Wary of the sniper, he varied the places he popped up from to fire. Atasushi had a different weapon, a Nakjama laser pistol, and so picked his shots more carefully, while calling for backup on a mobile phone with his other hand. Descartin was sure the Otomo had already triggered the small alarm incorporated into their watches, informing the rest of the palace guards of the attack. Reinforcements should be arriving soon.

If they could only hold out long enough.

Descartin cursed the fact that he had no weapon of his own, since carrying a weapon around Imperial City required a license. "Stay down!" He gestured to Irene and Kitsune to keep their heads down, and peered carefully out of the shop they had taken refuge in.

Daisuke and Atasushi were firing and moving towards his position, desperately dodging enemy fire all the time. Descartin could see from the bullet tracks that their ambushers had set up on both side of the street. It was going to take some doing for them to get out of this alive.

He looked at the bread shop, now empty of customers as the civilians had fled for their lives on hearing the first gunshots. He hoped Koji and Maeko had managed to escape from the area. They had no place on this battlefield.

Descartin saw at least five enemy men on the far side of the street, stationed on several low rise buildings, firing with pistols and submachine guns. He could not spot the sniper's position, which was worrying. He ducked back just in time, the corner he had been peering around chipped by another shot from the sniper.

"Psst!" He hissed to Daisuke, "Got anything for me to use?"

Daisuke reached behind his back and tossed a small holdout pistol to Descartin, drawing a sigh of mixed relief and disgust from the clan mechwarrior.

"Oh thank you so very much," Descartin muttered sarcastically as he broke a nearby window and lined up a shot at an attacker. He squeezed the trigger gently, dropping his target.

Staying in place was the best thing to do, since they were able to hold off their enemies, but that soon changed when Descartin felt a slight tremor through the ground. And it was something that was very recognizable to any mechwarrior.

A _battlemech_ was on the way.

Apparently, Daisuke had felt it as well. "We've got to move!" The Otomo shouted. "It's definitely not ours!" Evidently, the Otomo would not use a battlemech for backup in such situations, since it would have meant a great deal of damage to the neighborhood. IT also stood to reason that support would not have arrived so fast from the mech hangars in the Palace.

Which left their nebulous, as yet known enemy as the only owner of the battlemech or battlemechs approaching. Descartin wondered for a fleeting instant how anybody could have brought a battlemech so close to the city without being detected.

Those thoughts were driven out of his mind when he saw one of the attackers on the roof lift onto their shoulders a long elongated tube. And it was being aimed in the direction of the shop.

_This is getting ridiculous!_ Descartin thought as he fired off a few more shots in the direction of the LAW, trying to force them to keep their heads down. It did not work.

"Go, go, go!" Descartin yelled to Irene and Kitsune as he grabbed one of Irene's arms, leading them through a back door to the back of the building, just moments before the LAW fired.

The empty shop was filled with a tremendous explosion just after they slipped away, the shrapnel peppering Descartin's back as he pushed them away from the explosion. He stumbled slightly, but continued to run.

Then Descartin realized that they had lost contact with Daisuke and Atasushi.

_Tai-i_ Daisuke Ichikawa cursed as he and Atasushi ran into yet another yakuza patrol, obviously out for their blood.

The city was in chaos, as battlemechs marched through the streets and people ran for their lives into the defense shelters constructed years ago during the clan invasion. The Black Dragon insignia emblazoned on the attacking mechs told everybody quite clearly who was behind all this.

And somehow, even in the midst of all this, somebody was still able to track and chase him and Atasushi through the city, even as they tried to contact their charges. They fought their way through group after group of gun toting yakuza thugs, even as some of the thugs were 'helping' themselves to abandoned stores and goods, smashing display windows and shooting through padlocks to get to their loot.

Daisuke consoled himself that Descartin was with the Duchess Marik and Kitsune Kurita. The group had split up from the LAW attack, and with all the pressure on them, there was no time at all for them to even try to contact one another. Even worse, Atasushi's mobile phone got shot away in a skirmish, making it impossible for them to call for help.

The shots rang out, and Daisuke crouched low behind a car to avoid the bullets, clutching the Rorynex RM-3 SMG he had picked up from a dead yak earlier and snapping back the loading lever. Atasushi followed close behind, also holding a submachine gun. In this sort of combat situation, SMGs were an outnumbered soldier's best friend.

Daisuke pushed himself off the ground, sliding low as he fired once he emerged from his cover. The explosive-tipped bullets of the Rorynex did the rest, shredding flesh and bone. His slide brought him behind a building, while Atasushi popped up from behind the car to fire off a long burst, downing more yakuza soldiers.

Daisuke could hear the screams and gunfire, but they did not block out the sound of mech weapons firing either. _And it's getting louder,_ he noted.

Then an unknown mech suddenly crashed right in the middle of the street, its legs severed at the knee. Daisuke saw the yakuza scattering in fright, and he grimaced as he saw some live yak soldiers get crushed under tons of battlemech. Those still standing fled for their lives. When battlemechs were around, it was suicide to stick around.

The hardened warrior that he was, Daisuke was not deterred in the least. He took the opportunity to examine the battlemech. It was a new design, one that had never appeared in any military journal, he was sure. As a Otomo warrior, it was his duty to be kept abreast of all new mech designs in the clans, the Inner Sphere, and even the periphery. This was nothing he had ever seen before, and the standing rule on encountering new mechs was to take a good look at it and guess at its weapons and combat role.

Like all the other Black Dragon mechs, it was painted night black. A sword in the right arm indicated that it was geared for a close combat role. Its fall from a great height meant that it was jump capable. The thick missile racks in the left arm could be a short range streak rack, or a medium range missile rack. Ports in the torso were probably laser mounts.

The unknown mech tried to stand up, but its attempt was foiled as a rapidly charging _No-Dachi_ on the street ran up beside it and took off its head with a spectacular one time swipe from its own sword in a piercing screech of tearing metal.

Daisuke was about to step out and wave at the battered _No-Dachi_, painted in the colors of the 2nd Legion of Vega, and more distinctively, with the black rat image on one shoulder, when another of the new mechs appeared on flaring jets of plasma, lighting up the dim morning sky.

It launched a wave of missiles at the _No-Dachi_ from the left arm rack while in the sky, and then bathed its opponent in a stream of laser beams, before its sword swung around with all the momentum of its thrust velocity behind it.

The _No-Dachi_ stood solidly against the attacks, its own sword arcing up in a parry. Its own missile racks bloomed with fire, the missiles smashing all over the unknown mech.

The two swords met in a shower of sparks, the blade edges dragging along each other. The Black Dragon mech was thrown off balance by the _No-Dachi_'s move, and almost lost its footing, its feet trying to find purchase on the road as it landed heavily.

The _No-Dachi_ had no such problems, bringing up its left arm ER PPC right up beside the unknown mech, and letting go with a tremendous blast of particle fire at point blank range. The head of the unknown mech vaporized in a brilliant flash of blue light, and the mech fell to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

Daisuke looked around. _Oh no_, he thought, as he saw Atasushi near the burning car, laying in a pool of blood. Fragments of a stray missile must had caught the car, and Atasushi hit by the shrapnel.

He ran over to his fallen comrade, and checked for a pulse at the neck. _No pulse, he's gone._ Dasiuke cursed bitterly. He saw the open look of fear and terror in his friend's eyes, and he held his hand up to Atasushi's face, drawing his hand down across the face gently, and closing his eyes forever.

"Another tear for the Dragon," Daisuke muttered. He looked up at the motionless _No-Dachi_, which had apparently shut down. He noted with dismay the smoke billowing out of its torso. _Engine breach. The reactor's down._

The cockpit of the heavy mech cracked open, followed by a plastic ladder being thrown down beside the mech. A tall mechwarrior got out, sans his bulky neurohelmet, and slid down the ladder, touching down lightly on the ground. The warrior was clad in a typical DCMS combat suit, and a laser rifle was slung over one shoulder, as well as several more pistols of various makes stuffed in his overloaded holster.

Daisuke walked up to the mechwarrior, his Rorynex held at the ready, but not so high to offend a likely ally. The other mechwarrior drew his own sidearm, pointing it in Daisuke's general direction.

"Name, rank and unit!" Daisuke shouted out. They were within a meter of each other, but neither of them were willing to put down their weapons.

"_Tai-i_ Ryo Saeba, 2nd Legion of Vega! How 'bout you?" The mechwarrior yelled back.

"_Tai-i_ Daisuke Ichikawa, Otomo." Daisuke stared right into Ryo's eyes, "Whose side are you on?"

"I am loyal to Coordinator Theodore Kurita of the Draconis Combine," came the reply. "You?"

Daisuke lowered his gun, defusing the tension. "I too, am loyal to the Coordinator."

"_So ka_?" Ryo nodded, satisfied with Daisuke's reply. Obviously, they would have shot each other if they were on opposite sides. While there was the chance that Ryo was lying, Daisuke figured that it wasn't possible, not after the way he had taken out two Black Dragon machines. "Then let's get out of here. Where do we go?"

"To the Imperial Palace. The Dragon himself needs our help." He hoped Descartin had remembered his instructions and was heading to the palace. Trying to find each other in the city in the present situation was absolutely out of the question.

"_Hai!_" Ryo said as he fell into step with Daisuke, maintaining the standard infantry distance of 7 meters as they moved through the city.

The two of them got off the street, hugging the sides of the buildings, watching out for possible enemies. The masses of yakuza soldiers had disappeared, and that only meant one thing when Daisuke mentioned it.

"They're bringing up heavy mech support." Ryo said grimly. "Don't want too many foot soldiers getting in the way. The _teppodama_ just go 'squish'."

"How did you end up fighting alone?" Daisuke asked as they ran in the general direction of the Imperial Palace.

"I got a suspicion something was amiss last night, and I went to the Legion HQ to check things out. At first everything seemed all right, but then I saw some people sneaking around. I challenged them, and before I knew it, yak soldiers were everywhere. They cut the communications lines, and put up an ECM bubble around the place. I barely made it out of there alive in my mech, and got chased all the way from the Legion HQ to here."

"The rest of the Legion?" Daisuke asked, feeling uneasy in his _hara_.

"Dead." Ryo said flatly. "The Black Dragons killed them in their beds. Some of the Legion, maybe a battalion's worth or more, were also traitors. I saw it myself. Shouldn't be too surprising, considering the amount of effort the _Kokuryu-kai_ put in for this."

Daisuke shook his head sadly. The forces loyal to the Coordinator were obviously outnumbered. The Izanagi Warriors were accompanying Hohiro Kurita and the Genyosha on the border, which left the defense of Luthien to the Otomo, the 2nd Legion of Vega, the 7th Sword of Light, and the planetary militia. Considering the détente with the clans, and the level of fixed defenses on the front, even against the mighty Ghost Bears, that was a strong garrison.

"The 7th Sword?" Daisuke prompted.

He saw Ryo grit his teeth. "They've gone over."

"They've what?" Daisuke almost paused in mid step, before shaking his head in sheer disbelief.

"Gone over." Ryo repeated again, then clarified for Daisuke's sake. "They sent out several companies to hunt down Legion survivors. Prefecture commander _Tai-sho _Minamoto announced over the comms that he is pledging his support to Jubei Kurita and that the Coordinator is unfit to rule. His old command followed suit."

"Damn!" That left only the Otomo to defend the Coordinator against two, possibly more, enemy regiments. Not good at all.

They would need something to even up the odds. A miracle of some sort would be very welcome right about now.

Then all thoughts were driven out of his mind as they came across a foot platoon of yakuza soldiers. Daisuke went in with his SMG blazing, while Ryo shot with deadly accuracy, hitting with almost every single one of his rounds.

Descartin could not quite believe what was happening as he led Irene and Kitsune through the city, weaving their way desperately towards the sanctuary of the Imperial Palace. The easy morning which had promised such a wonderful day had given way to a stern and unforgiving day of battle.

First New Avalon got attacked, then Luthien. If Descartin was a betting man(he was not), he would have placed his bets on a conspiracy at work.

_Would Taurus be next? _Descartin wondered. Ian Calderon was there, after all. It seemed like trouble tended to follow them around like bees after nectar.

_No time to worry about that, _he reminded himself. _Better to focus on the present._

There was plenty to focus on. He had recovered an Imperator auto-rifle from the many yaks he had killed, as well as an ample supply of magazines. Irene herself held a light SMG, which Descartin had given to her after she insisted she knew how to use it. Even young Kitsune was clutching the hold out pistol Daisuke had given him earlier, though it was nearly out of ammo.

Descartin moved as silently as he could, scouting out one area before gesturing to Irene and Kitsune to join him, and then moving on alone to the next point. The leapfrog technique was slow, but it was also the safest for Irene and Kitsune.

The one problem was, if he got ambushed or stuck in a firefight, and got killed, Irene and Kitsune would be left alone.

Which was exactly what had happened to him.

Another burst of rounds ripped past his present position, right behind a metal mail box. The mail box was just large enough for him to take cover behind, and hard enough to stop the enemy bullets, but it was also far away from any other possible cover that he was stuck. And the volume of firepower being tossed at him was pinning him down.

Irene and Kitsune were twenty meters away, under cover and safe. Descartin could see them, but their attackers could not, which was a minor mercy. He waved his hand at them, gesturing at Irene to go another direction, only for her to stubbornly shake her head, creep to another position, and open up with a long burst at his attackers. They fired back at her.

That lessened the amount of shots ringing around his ears, but not by much. Worse, they were also shooting in Irene's direction now, and after he was dead, they would be going after her and Kitsune next. Descartin was also sure at least a few of his attackers would be moving forward to flank him.

Gritting his teeth, Descartin prepared to dash out of his position for a final all or nothing assault, to buy time for Irene and Kitsune to get away. If he died, Irene would also have no reason to stay and help him any further. He checked his weapon, ensuring that it was fully loaded, and pushed off from his position from behind the mail box, sighting in on an attacker, and already steeling himself for the bullets to start hitting him.

Except that his enemies were suddenly under assault from another direction, a stream of high powered laser bursts cutting them down from behind even as their bullets chased Descartin. Stunned by the unexpected assault, their fire slackened as they tried to deal with enemies from two directions.

It was a fatal move. Descartin got a second wind from their hesitation, and his bullets sliced into the men, while he advanced fearlessly, gambling on their inability to react to the sudden situational change.

Twenty second later, it was all over, the bodies lying in pools of blood while he quickly reloaded his rifle. Irene and Kitsune had left their cover, and were running to join him.

"Whoever helped us, thank you." Descartin said to the darkness, where the laser bolts had originated.

"I never thought to hear you say those words, Descartin Winters." A deep growl rasped as a slightly obese man with a balding head of white hair emerged from the shadows. A Nova Cat patch gleamed from one corner of his clothing, while the man carried a blazer pistol in his right hand.

Descartin stared at the newcomer in shock, as his brain superimposed the image in front of his eyes with his memories. He recognized the man. The same man who had fought him, pushed him to his limits, and ultimately nearly died at his hands years ago when he was still in the sibko.

"Secorra, it has been a long time." Descartin tried to swallow his shock, but he did not hide it quickly enough.

"A long time? Aff, it has." Secorra growled. "Last I saw you was in Oathmaster Biccon Winters' office. How many years has it been? Twenty?"

"Slightly less than that." Descartin corrected. "In any case, thank you for your help." It felt strange talking to the nemesis of his youth so casually, but Descartin did not feel any real enmity from Secorra. The old hatred had cooled, leaving instead antipathy, or was there even a bit of respect for the other solahma warrior, still active and deadly with a gun after so many years? For the first time in his life, Descartin was grateful for his not killing Secorra that day on Barcella. Did the Oathmaster see something of this day that compelled her to intervene then?

"Don't thank me," Secorra said as he looked around, scanning the area for enemies, and sniffing the air as if he could detect the scent of their foes, "I was also protecting myself. These Black Dragon thugs are out for Nova Cat blood. Too bad I longer have a mech to pilot."

"Black Dragon thugs?" Irene prodded for more information.

"Aff," Secorra nodded. "It could only be these malcontents behind this, as they hate the clan as much as the Coordinator himself. I am heading towards the Nova Cat embassy. I suggest you follow me there, Descartin. You may not be much of a shot, but another warrior is always good." Secorra barked harshly in laughter.

Descartin shook his head. "Neg. The embassy is too far away, and the streets are crawling with foot patrols. We got lucky this time. Secorra, go with me to the Imperial Palace. It is nearer."

"Why should I?" The large man asked. "Distance holds no fear for me." Secorra turned to leave.

Irene cut in, "Because this child here," she took Kitsune's shivering hand and gently moved him in front of her, "is the scion of the Coordinator, the nephew of your Oathmaster, and the son of Victor Davion. As your clan is pledged to Victor Davion's service, you are honor bound to protect this child as well." Those words halted Secorra in place.

Descartin spun around as well to look at Irene and Kitsune as she made the revelation, his eyes growing wide._ Kitsune is Victor Davion's son? And a Kurita as well? So who is the mother? Ahhh… Omi Kurita!_ Descartin remembered the rumors and accusations from late night holovid shows._ No wonder the attackers seemed to be following us! I know that the Draconis Combine is supposed to hate the Davions, so this must be their way of striking back at them!_

Descartin shook his head, chiding himself for his stupidity. _I should have seen it sooner. Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

Secorra stared at Kitsune for several moments, before looking at Descartin. "A strange situation I have found you in, my former cadet. I thought you were with the Goliath Scorpions."

"I still am." Descartin said, before hurriedly asking, "So will you accompany us?"

The two warriors stared at each other in the eyes, gauging each other's strength and sincerity, before Secorra said, "Very well then. To the Imperial Palace."

Ryo fired a round from his laser rifle through a car, the high energy beam punching through the thin layers of metal and plastic into a yakuza soldier. A scream from behind the car informed him of his hit.

Daisuke turned to look at him with amazement, but Ryo just explained, "I spent all my off-duty time at the gaming arcade's shooting gallery."

They were doing quite well so far, evading enemy patrols whenever possible, or ambushing them when it was advantageous to do so. Yakuza soldiers were called _teppodama_, or bullets, because they were indeed _that_ expendable, and often ineffective against real opposition. Ryo had lost count of the number of yaks he had killed.

They were now five blocks away from the Imperial Palace, and the sounds of gunfire in the distance spoke of loyalists engaged in combat with the yakuza soldiers. The two of them picked up their pace. Safety was just around the corner.

Ryo amended that thought as somebody fired at them, the bullets hitting the concrete wall above them, showering them with plaster even as they ducked for cover.

He did not stay in cover for long, skidding back out almost immediately along the ground, his laser pistol sighting in on their attacker. He snapped off a shot, the beam puncturing the yak's head and flash-boiling the water within the brain into vapor almost instantaneously.

He rolled himself to a stop, and was about to continue moving forward when he realized Daisuke had been hit. The Otomo was clutching his stomach, blood seeping out from his hands as he tried to staunch the blood flow.

"Forget about me, go on to the Palace yourself." Ichikawa gasped through his pain.

"_Iie_." Ryo leaned down, and lifted up Daisuke up on one arm. "It's a short distance anyway." Ryo gritted his teeth. "Just a walk in the rain."

_A rain of bullets._

During the clan war, he had left men to die, good men who deserved better. It was something that Ryo had sworn he would never allow to happen again.

"Come on!" Ryo encouraged Daisuke as the two of them stumbled forward. Ryo had his laser rifle in one arm, while his other arm grasped Daisuke around his body, pulling him upright. "Come on!" He shouted again.

Two more yaks appeared in front of them, but Ryo shot them down. He twisted around in time to drop another who had appeared behind them.

Another appeared on Daisuke's side, and the Otomo managed to croak out a warning, with Ryo turning in time to shoot the enemy.

The bullets flew around them thick and fast. Ryo shut out the pain as a bullet creased past his face, drawing blood across one cheek. Another bullet sliced into his leg, but Ryo kept his balance, shambling forward with his human load and firing with his rifle.

Their arrival had sent the Black Dragons into turmoil, which had in turn allowed the defending infantry to take advantage. Shots appeared to be pouring into the Black Dragons blocking their way from the direction of the Palace, though Ryo was not certain if he or Daisuke could survive that long.

Then a barrage of submachine gun fire cut into the gangsters from one flank, killing at least five of them outright. The rest of them fled as their morale broke from the three sided assault.

"Daisuke!" Ryo heard somebody shout, and he looked up in surprise as he saw Descartin Winters run up to them, even as a squad of palace guards approached.

"_Tai-i_ Saeba?" The clan warrior seemed almost as surprised as he was. "What happened?" He looked at Daisuke, who was nearly unconscious from the loss of blood. "Where's Atasushi?"

"No time to talk about it." Ryo said, as he snapped off a quick series of commands to the palace guard squad leader, a _gunsho_, while Descartin carried Daisuke. Ryo groaned in relief as the pressure on his injured leg lessened. The _gunsho_ started barking questions into his walkie-talkie. From what Ryo could hear, the palace personnel are going through a background check on him and Daisuke, before allowing them to pass. It was going to be a long wait.

Hopefully, the _gunsho _would allow them to pass, especially after seeing what he and Daisuke had done. The bar insignia of a _Tai-i_ on one side of his torn mechwarrior combat suit would also be a great help.

Then he saw Descartin's other companions, a balding, slightly plump clan solahma warrior, a young boy, and a pretty woman with long chestnut hair.

The woman stepped up to the squad leader, and she said in an authoritative tone, "I am Duchess Isis Marik. You will allow us entry into the Palace _now_." Her eyes were hard, demanding.

Ryo's eyes opened wide in surprise. _The daughter of a House Lord, here on Luthien? And what the heck was Winters doing around her?_ From the stupefied look on Winters' face, Ryo guessed the clanner did not know himself.

The _gunsho_, who had seemed reluctant to let them in unless he had orders from the top a moment ago, barked again into the walkie talkie, rather more quickly this time with fear in his eyes. The reply came back in an instant, and Ryo sighed in relief as he heard the orders to let them all in.

The squad led them in terse silence through several hastily thrown up barricades. Ryo noted with dismay that there were no battlemechs on this side of the palace, leaving only infantry and vehicles to defend it on this side.

Daisuke had received emergency medical attention, and was stretchered off even as the group was brought finally to a room of chaos.

DCMS officers were all over the place, screaming and shouting at one another as they sought to organize a response to the Black Dragon attack. A holographic display of the city was shown in the center of the room, with red and black dots indicating friendly and enemy forces respectively. The number of black dots in comparison to the red made Ryo want to vomit.

But what came next was a real shock to most of the people in the room.

The Duchess Marik brought the boy over to a distinguished man, who Ryo recognized immediately as the Coordinator of the Draconis Combine. Theodore Kurita seemed tired, bowed by the weight of his duties, his face creased by the tragedies of the past few years, the deaths of his wife and daughter. Worry lined his mouth, but they seemed to disappear momentarily as he saw the young boy. The young boy ran towards the Coordinator in tears.

"Kitsune!" The Coordinator exclaimed in relief as he hugged the boy. "Thank Buddha you are safe!"

"_Sofu!_" The boy said between tears as he hugged the Coordinator, clutching the Coordinator's kimono tightly with his hands. "I was so scared!"

"Don't worry, Grandfather is here." The Coordinator gently wiped away the tears from the boy's eyes.

All the activity in the room seemed to have stopped, as everybody found themselves watching the Coordinator and the boy. Was the boy his grandson? And from who? Ryo guessed that young Kitsune had never been revealed to even the Palace workers or DCMS warriors. Probably only the most loyal Otomo knew.

Theodore seemed to have realized the eyes of everybody on him as well, and he rose to his full height, looking determinedly around the room, as he announced, "This is Kitsune Kurita, son of Omi, my beloved daughter, and Victor Steiner-Davion." Gasps could be heard throughout the room. "My only grandchild."

Theodore looked around the room, as though daring anyone to bring up the matter of Kitsune's parentage. There was none, everybody lowering their heads, ashamed at having doubted the Coordinator's honor or sincerity. When there was no response, he snapped a quick order, "Back to your work!"

The chaos resumed, even worse than before. The Coordinator turned to the Duchess. "Thank you Isis, for bringing Kitsune back safely. Where are Daisuke and Atasushi?"

Ryo stepped in to answer. "_Tono_, _Tai-i_ Ichikawa was wounded and is in the medical bay. I was told that Atasushi Yanagisawa was killed in action."

"And you are?"

Ryo saluted smartly, despite his injured leg. "_Tai-i_ Ryo Saeba, 2nd Legion of Vega. My mech went down in the city, and I made my way here."

"The rest of the Legion?"

Ryo repeated what he had told Daisuke earlier. Theodore's face was grim when he finished.

"And these two?" The Coordinator turned to Winters and the other clanner.

Isis Marik answered this time. She stepped beside Winters, "This is Star Captain Descartin Winters of the Goliath Scorpions."

Winters spoke next, gesturing to the solahma, "And this is Warrior Secorra, of the Nova Cats."

"They helped me and Kitsune escape the city, your Highness." Isis said. "We couldn't have done it without their help."

Theodore fixed his blue eyes on them for several long moments, and Ryo had the uneasy feeling the Coordinator was gazing into their very souls. He also had the distinct feeling that he was searching within them for something. _But what?_ Ryo wondered.

After what seemed to be a long time, but only ten seconds if anyone was counting, Theodore Kurita nodded in satisfaction, as though he had found what he was looking for. "You are mechwarriors, are you not?"

All three of them nodded.

He asked, "Star Captain Winters, why did you help Duchess Marik and young Kitsune?"

Descartin had been asking himself that very same question for the past few minutes. His world had truly been turned topsy-turvy by the revelations of the day. First Kitsune, now Isis. So that was the secret they had been hiding from him.

He knew he was supposed to get angry, but he found that he could not work up any. He knew Irene… no, Isis, would not lie to him unless it had been necessary. And it had been a good idea, for who might have overheard them when they were talking to each other?

Daisuke had been badly wounded, and Atasushi was dead. They had been lucky to arrive in time to save Ryo Saeba and Daisuke. He looked at Ryo critically, for the DCMS mechwarrior was limping on one leg. He wondered if Ryo was up to piloting a mech in combat in his current condition.

Descartin turned back to Theodore. "The Duchess and Kitsune are my friends." It was the simple truth.

"Will you help defend the Combine?" Theodore asked again.

Descartin looked at Isis, her face full of worry for him. _A reason to fight, _he decided. "Give me a mech," he answered Theodore, "and I will defeat your enemies for you."

Theodore looked at Secorra. "You are of the Nova Cats. I am sorry to tell you that the embassy has fallen. However, they went down bravely, taking down many Black Dragons. Will you fight for me?"

A slight nod from Secorra signified his assent, and Descartin felt a burst of pride swell through his chest as he saw his fellow clansman, the man who had helped train him, get a second chance at piloting a mech. Perhaps he had not hated Secorra that much after all.

Ryo Saeba was last. "You are wounded, _Tai-I_ Saeba. Are you sure you can fight?"

"_Tono_, my life is yours to command!" Ryo said resolutely.

Theodore smiled, then shouted, "_Chu-sa_ Fujitama!" An officer in the uniform of an infantryman ran up in response to his lord's summons.

"I believe we have more mechs than mechwarriors. Show these three _buso-senshi_ to the mechbay, and give them the best mechs we have available. _Tai-i_ Ichikawa's _Avatar_ and _Chu-i_ Yanagisawa's _Akuma_ are currently unoccupied, correct?" The _Chu-sa _nodded. "And find another mech to make up the numbers."

Theodore turned to Ryo. "_Tai-i_, enemy mech forces are advancing from the south, and we do not have any mech left to deploy in that direction. It'll be up to you to stop them."

"_Hai_!" Ryo said. "We'll do it, or die trying."

"We will not die, _Tai-i _Saeba." Descartin shook his head. "I will not have that kind of talk. Believe it. Lead the way, _Chu-sa_ Fujitama."

He was about to leave when Isis stepped in front of him. "Take care of yourself, will you?" She said as she raised her hands to his cheeks, gazing into his eyes.

"I will," Descartin said softly, raising his own hands up to take hers, and then lowering them gently from his face. "Take care of my belongings. Thank you." He handed his duffel bag over to Isis, who promised to safeguard it for him.

"Come on, let us depart!" Secorra shouted from the doorway leading out, supporting a bemused Ryo with a beefy arm. Descartin ran up to them, sparing Isis one last glance.

Ryo, with his injured leg, had to be half carried by the other two mechwarriors as they made their way through the palace. They entered the mechbay behind Fujitama, which was another frenzied center of chaos. Techs ran to and fro carrying stacks of vital equipment and other diagnostics, while the shattered hulks of several mechs in their racks attested to the furious fighting going on. More mechs were being prepped for action, and they eventually came to a stop before a hideous looking assault mech. Beside it were two other mechs, one a near identical facsimile of a _Nova_, the other a heavy mech with chicken legs reminiscent of a _Mad Dog_.

Chu-sa Fujitama and Ryo Saeba gave several quick orders to the technician in charge of the machines, and then Fujitama ran off, presumably back to the command center. The tech barked several unintelligible commands to his subordinates.

Ryo limped up to them. "Okay, there's an _Akuma_, an _Avatar_, and a _Black Hawk Ku_ for us. The _Avatar_ is geared for command, and packs a C3 command unit. The _Black Hawk_ is configured for close in combat. The _Black Hawk_ and _Akuma_ both carry C3 slaves. What do you guys want?"

"I am taking the _Nova_." Secorra said, using the Clan designation for the _Black Hawk_, even if this version was of Inner Sphere manufacture. "I piloted a _Nova_ during my time as a warrior in Beta Galaxy." That made sense.

Ryo spoke next. "I'm taking the _Avatar_, because I think neither of you know how to use the C3 command system, right?" The two clan warriors shook their heads. "So leave that one to me. That leaves you with the _Akuma_, Star Captain Winters. Do you know the specs?"

Descartin closed his eyes, rummaging through his memory for the mech's loadout. He opened them after a second. "Assault mech. PPC in arm, medium range missile rack, LBX autocannon, and some lasers."

Ryo nodded. "It packs the most firepower. If half of what Yoshino told me about you was true, you're the best choice for it. Let's get to it."

They changed quickly, using spare mechwarrior combat suits the techs had brought up on a trolley. Even Ryo changed out of his damaged suit into a new one, since his old one had many of its coolant lines torn when he had been shot near the palace.

"Where is Yoshino anyway?" Descartin asked Ryo as they changed, right in the mechbay. In the current situation, nobody cared about such niceties like changing rooms.

The DCMS officer smirked. "You're either very good, or very lucky. Yoshino stayed in the city to look for you." At Descartin's look of consternation, Ryo hurried on. "I sent him to the spaceport last night, because I got a hint something was wrong then. With luck, he should be in his mech right now. I called for him from my previous ride, but no luck. Since we're being deployed to the south, which is nearer the spaceport, I can hopefully use the _Avatar_'s better C3 system to contact him. A _Nobori-Nin_ on our side would sure be nice."

Descartin nodded in agreement. A tech came up, and signaled to them that their mechs were ready.

Descartin was still worried about Ryo's leg. "Saeba, are you sure you can fight? It'll be more difficult for you to turn your mech with only one leg on the pedals."

"It's hurt, but not so bad I can't exert weight on it. I asked the techs to reduce the resistance on the pedal, so it should be okay now. Besides, the _Avatar_ doesn't have jump jets, so I won't have to stomp on them."

They got into their mechs, and started up the engines. Techs stayed the cockpits, adjusting the neural patterns for optimum performance and troubleshooting for the mechwarriors at every step. After all, the mechs were new to them, and there were quite a few kinks to be worked out.

Descartin plugged the neurohelmet contact cable from behind the command couch into his helmet, while using his other arm to attach the coolant lines from his suit into the coolant control valve on his right. The tech nearby worked feverishly on the computer with a bulky portable Descartes computer, his body halfway inside the mech cockpit.

Normally, the mech's computer would ask him for access codes, or a special phrase for activating the mech, but the tech had swapped out the security module for another, and then reprogrammed the new module to accept Descartin's control of the mech, which circumvented the problem.

"Warrior, the mech is yours," the tech said as the mech's displays came to life, signifying the machine's readiness to enter lethal combat. PPC in the left arm, check. Missile rack, check. Streak SRM packs, check. Autocannon, check. Lasers, check. Heat sink system, check. A blinking display panel read 'Establishing C3 network protocol'.

"Thank you," Descartin said as the tech backed out of the cockpit, taking care not to knock his head on the sides of the hatch. The hatch closed a moment later. At the same time, the C3 display changed to 'C3 network established'.

He opened the lance communication frequency with a flick of his finger on a side panel. "This is Descartin Winters. I am online."

"Secorra here. I am ready to move as well."

"Ryo here. Seems like we're all ready. Okay then, let's go out." The _Avatar_ came to life, while a technician waved a flag to indicate the path out of the mechbay.

Descartin's _Akuma_ moved next. It was slow, with a top speed of perhaps 55 kilometers per hour, though Descartin was sure he could squeeze out a bit more maneuverability with some tricks he had picked up during his time with the Ice Hellions. Leaning the mech forward, using his balance and widening the strides of the mech, things like that.

Secorra's _Black Hawk_ brought up the rear, moving a bit hesitantly and surprising Descartin until he remembered that Secorra had mentioned that he had not piloted a mech for several years.

They were pointed towards an exit leading to a long dimly-lit tunnel, and Descartin noticed that they were moving up a pretty steep incline.

_So the mechbay is situated under the Palace_, Descartin thought, _with paths leading out in every direction. _They were moving at a good pace, exactly at the _Akuma_'s best speed, since it was the slowest mech in their small force. _I hope Isis is all right._

Descartin shook his head. They were going into battle soon, and he could not afford to think about anything else. Isis was safe enough in the command center with the Coordinator.

They emerged amongst a platoon of friendly battlearmor in defensive positions around the area. Ryo led them through the buildings, then out into a wide boulevard lined with trees.

Ryo stopped his _Avatar_ after they had moved 300 meters down. "Here is where we make a sta… Hold on, I'm picking up something."

"There is fighting going on in the distance." Secorra reported, his _Black Hawk_ already racing forward to take up a position nearer the enemy, since its weapons were mostly short range lasers and missiles.

Ryo shouted eagerly as his systems identified the _Nobori-Nin_, "It's Yoshino!"

Yoshino Ihara could not believe his day. He had been working with Wolkul on the _Nobori-Nin_ at the spaceport when the attack on Imperial City started.

He had hopped into the omnimech almost immediately, while Wolkul and Tina had found a hovercar, ready to move. They waited for some sort of signal from Ryo Saeba, but there was none for almost 3 hours.

During that time, the spaceport came under attack from several Black Dragon units, while the outmatched local garrison got slaughtered. The independent operators at the spaceport, those like Yoshino with their own mechs, quickly got the hint and moved out. Several of them were caught during their escape though, and went down hard. That left Yoshino with no illusions as to who the enemy was this day.

His small group had managed to slip past the Black Dragon cordon, and Yoshino had been trying to elude enemy patrols for the past hour, looking for some hint, some sign, of what he should do next.

In the end, he had made a decision. From what transmissions he had been able to receive, it seemed that the area around the Imperial Palace was the only place where there was any meaningful resistance. Everywhere else was just one big pit of death.

So he headed for the Imperial Palace, evading enemy units and leading Wolkul and Tina in the hovercar towards possible safety. He just hoped the DCMS units would not shoot at him on sight.

Then he stumbled across a Black Dragon lance, and now he was fighting them in a desperate hit and run engagement.

It was not easy. A _Kabuto_, a _Stinger_, a _Panther_, and one of those strange new medium mechs with a sword had comprised the lance chasing him through the city. All faster than the _Nobori-Nin_, though individually they were no match for the clan omnimech, together they could bring it down.

Yoshino had managed to destroy the _Stinger_ with a salvo from his large pulse lasers and missile racks, but the others had played hit and run with him as well, jumping in, cutting loose with their weapons, and then jumping away again.

Except that Yoshino had not even suffered a scratch yet. Apparently, these were not the best mechwarriors around. And that was all he needed to continue moving towards the Palace, while keeping an eye out for opportunities to take down his opponents. The hovercar followed cautiously a kilometer back, hanging back from the action. The Black Dragons ignored it, presumably mistaking it for a bunch of looters taking advantage of the situation.

Then the enemy lance suddenly attacked en masse when he got within a kilometer of the Palace.

Yoshino ducked the _Nobori-Nin_ like a boxer as the sword-wielding mech slashed at him at the head level, the blade slicing off a thin corner of the _Nobori-Nin_'s head. He swallowed dryly at that glimpse of death, before triggering his entire arsenal at the enemy.

The sword wielding mech staggered back, but remained on its feet. Hell, even its armor was not fully blasted away as Yoshino had expected from a mech of its class. _Must have an XL engine to mount that much armor, _he guessed.

"Yoshino, break hard right!" The unexpected yet utterly familiar command came suddenly, and without thinking, Yoshino did as he was told, turning the _Nobori-Nin_ to his right and pushing his throttle forward to move the mech in that direction.

No less than three PPC bolts shot through the space he had just vacated, smashing into the _Kabuto _that was closing in to use its streak SRM racks. The _Kabuto_ staggered, then exploded as a stray electrical spark caught the ammunition bin, blowing the light mech into metal smithereens, shards of superheated battlemech setting the trees on fire as they scattered. Within moments, the entire road was lined with flaming torches, in a ghastly scene that reminded Yoshino of pictures of the Nine Hells.

_Was that Descartin? _Yoshino was sure it was, but he didn't quite believe his ears. Or his eyes, for that matter, when he saw no less than an assault mech and two heavies stride down the wide boulevard.

Meanwhile, a burst of laser fire from the jumping Otomo _Back Hawk _washed over the _Panther_. The _Panther _seemed to panic at the sight of so much mech tonnage, nearly stumbling as it backpedaled furiously.

"The _Panther _is mine!" Somebody shouted over the comms.

"Yoshino, get that sword bearer!" This time, Yoshino was sure it was Ryo's voice. He had almost been shocked into immobility by the rapid pace of events, but his training kicked in, and he reacted accordingly, firing his pulse lasers again into the Black Dragon mech as it fired back with its array of MRMs and lasers. The _Nobori-Nin_ shook from the impacts, and Yoshino had to struggle to keep his mech on its feet.

An _Avatar_ and a hideous _Akuma_ lashed out with their PPCs again, catching the rebel mech on its most vulnerable area exposed by prior damage, the center torso. The mech flopped over on its back, moments before it went up in a ball of expanding plasma from an engine containment failure. Yoshino was far away to avoid getting hit by the plasma, yet not so far that he could not feel the extreme heat from the death of the mech.

A crash of a building spoke of the _Panther_'s doom, as it crashed down onto a shopping complex in the middle of a jump, the _Black Hawk_ severing one of the _Panther_'s legs and unbalancing the mech as it was jumping. The _Panther_ laid very still on the wreckage of the building, while battle suited infantry closed in on it.

The _Avatar_ kept its guns trained on the _Panther_ as it moved up beside Yoshino. "_Domo arigato_, Ihara-_san_!" Ryo said formally. It could only be him in the _Avatar_, and Yoshino could see the faint outlines of his friend through the dark cockpit glass.

"_Do itashi moshite_," Yoshino replied just as politely, before he went on irritably, "Where the hell were you?"

He could see Ryo wincing in his cockpit. "Hey, I tried my best, but somebody was jamming the frequencies. I lost my ride from the Vega Legions, okay?"

"Yoshino, it is not _Tai-i_ Saeba's fault." Descartin added. There was no mistaking his voice, and the transmission source indicated its origin as the _Akuma_. "He had to be a PBI for a while."

"Great timing, Des," Yoshino rolled his eyes in his neurohelmet, "I've been looking for you for the past fortnight and you had to turn up now in the middle of a fight. Typical." He thought the _Akuma _appropriate for Descartin. A demon of a mechwarrior in a demon of a mech.

"Can we do the catching up later?" Ryo said. "There's about a company of mechs heading our way, and they're not very friendly."

"ETA?" Descartin asked.

"Ten minutes from what the outlying sensors tell me."

"Des, Ryo," commented Yoshino, "Wolkul and Tina are in a hovercar. I'm getting them to the Palace."

Ryo agreed. "_Hai_. Get them out of here ASAP. I'll inform the guards." Yoshino quickly signaled Wolkul, who had been hiding the hovercar three kilometers away, to advance to their position and then onto the Palace.

"And who is this warrior in an omnimech of the clans?" This was somebody Yoshino did not recognize, the pilot of the _Black Hawk_. The way he spoke indicated a clansman.

Yoshino answered for himself, "This is former bondsman Yoshino, currently of the Goliath Scorpions. And you are?"

"I am Secorra of the Nova Cats." Yoshino gasped as he recalled Descartin's tales of his former sibko instructor. That all of them should meet here, on this day, in this situation, was incredible karma. Yoshino wondered if the fates had something special in store for their impromptu lance of clanners and samurai.

Descartin cut in, "Uh, Yoshino, you are not my yeoman any longer. Go back to the DCMS."

"Descartin, how can you give up a warrior of the clans so easily back to the Houses?" Secorra complained.

"Can we all forget about who belongs where and just get ready to fight?" Ryo groused, his _Avatar_ moving slowly down the street. The fires were burning down, leaving only charred corpses of the trees, while the _Panther_ had been disabled by the battlearmor. "Who cares as long as we're on the same side? Yoshino, you with us?"

"Sure. Beats sitting around doing nothing." Yoshino swore he saw the _Akuma_ give the equivalent of a mech shoulder shrug at his reply before following the _Avatar_. He started his _Nobori-Nin_ moving alongside the _Black Hawk_.

Ryo got on the horn again. "All right, here's the latest bit of intel from the infantry who got the _Panther_ pilot. The sword bearing mech is called a _Black Dragon_. Go figure."

Descartin started giving out orders. "Secorra, move ahead of us. Your mech is best for fighting in close, and we need your C3 telemetry. No, I do not wish to hear about dishonorable tactics and dirty Inner Sphere surats. We are badly outnumbered and need every edge we can squeeze out. And I outrank you, so you have to follow my orders."

Then it was Yoshino's turn. "Yoshino, go to Plan E. You will have to…"

"I know, I know." Yoshino was extremely familiar with the plan, having used it many times with Descartin. "You play bait, and I play the trap. Medium or close range?"

"Medium, but get ready to move up if Secorra gets overmatched. Ryo, you stay at long range. How is the leg?"

"My leg's fine, and this baby is only suitable for long range support anyway," Ryo laughed, "I'll be the backboard. Call for help if you need it, guys!" Yoshino wished he had Ryo's easy confidence. But then again, Ryo could afford to be, since he was going to fight at long range, leaving the close in work to the others.

Yoshino could see Wolkul's hovercar streaking down the streets towards them, then a quick salute from the tech in the driver's seat as he drove past them. In the distance, the shadows of enemy mechs could be seen stalking across the buildings.

"Here they come." Descartin whispered.

_Tai-i _Renford Akagi could not ignore the shiver running through his body as he guided his company through the deserted streets of Unity City, heading to the Palace. His _Hunchback _was a good mech, but he still felt a bit insecure with its slow speed.

His company of mechs from the First Dragon Legion regiment was tasked to punch a hole into the Palace's defenses, which would be followed up by several companies of yakuza infantry close behind him to assault the Palace. The Otomo were all tied up on the other fronts, and there wasn't supposed to be any mech resistance in this area.

His recon lance had gone ahead of the company, but none of them had reported back, which worried him.

Obviously, those reports of no enemy mechs around were proven conclusively wrong as he glimpsed a hulking _Akuma_ standing stationary in the middle of the street. It was painted in the colors of the Otomo, and could only be an enemy.

Renford wrote off his recon lance in that instance. He only hoped they had gone ahead to their deaths like samurai, taking down as many of their enemies as possible.

He swallowed down his fear. "_Roku_ company, forward! Concentrate fire on the _Akuma_!" His two lances of medium mechs were well balanced, and he was confident he could take the _Akuma_ without any losses. The problem was, where were its lancemates?

He kept an eye out for them. Even if the reports were wrong on the enemy mech presence, the corrupt Theodore Kurita could not possibly have many mechs left to defend this side of the palace. No more than a lance of enemy mechs, Renford guessed.

Akagi deftly controlled his weapons joystick, dropping it over the silhouette of the _Akuma_. It was still more than 300 meters away, but his _Hunchback_ had been modified to carry an extended range large laser and a super heavy class LBX autocannon, which made it a dangerous mech at any range. And the _Akuma _was in range of his laser.

"Frakencrack!" Except that there was no lock when he slid the targeting cursor over the _Akuma_. Renford tried again, with the same result as before. No matter, he trusted his own manual targeting. He pressed on his trigger.

The laser bolt passed to the side of the _Akuma_, now moving slowly backwards. The rest of his men's shots hit only the surrounding terrain, which made Akagi feel better. So what if he missed? So did everybody else!

Then one of his flanking _Venom_s was attacked by a _Black Hawk Ku_ slashing in from the right, and Renford began to worry. There was time only for a frenzied report from the _Venom_ before it went silent. The red dot denoting an enemy mech on his radar and the fading out of the green dot of a friendly unit told him the rest. Renford sent his _Komodo_ and a _Wolverine K_ after the _Black Hawk_, which began to play a hide and seek game in the city.

Then to make things even worse, the _Akuma_ fired back. The massive MRM rack spat out a tornado of missiles at them, while the PPC and LBX cannon blasted away.

A _Strider_ simply disintegrated under its attack.

All of a sudden, he realized that his numerical advantage was slowly but surely disappearing. _Have to go for broke now, before I lose any more mechs!_

Renford still had his command lance with him, and it was enough to take the _Akuma_. "Charge!" He yelled. A _Grand Dragon_, a _Black Dragon_, and a _Wolf Trap_, all faster than his _Hunchback_, barreled ahead at the _Akuma_.

Then his radar picked up another red dot closing in, this time from the left. He had more warning this time, and it would take that unit about 20 seconds to reach weapons range, but Renford was not sure if his lance could take down the _Akuma_ in 20 seconds.

Still, it was four mechs to one, and he pressed his trigger again. Never mind if he was unable to get a targeting lock.

The might of an entire lance of mechs was thrown at the _Akuma_, but as before, not a single weapon hit, doing a great deal of damage to the surrounding estate instead.

Renford took a moment to stare at the sight of the lumbering _Akuma_ untouched by any weapon in disbelief. By right, by the law of averages, something should have hit!

"Get in closer and kick it!" He screamed to his men. When all else failed, the traditional methods of close in physical attacks would work. In fact, he had used them many times in his DCMS career before he was cashiered. The metal fist and the iron shod foot were the most dependable of all combat weapons. And now that they had hatchets and swords…

From far away in the distance, a mix of PPC and autocannon shots slammed into the _Grand Dragon_, followed by another huge salvo of missiles from the _Akuma_. The _Grand Dragon_ pilot lost his footing with the loss of so much armor, and the mech crashed into a building on one side.

Renford's radar had picked up one more mech, an _Avatar_, about 500 meters away. He cursed. Even with the _Grand Dragon_ back, his lance barely outmassed the _Akuma_ and _Avatar_.

The _Black Dragon_ suddenly received a boost of speed, as its triple strength myomers heated up. It whipped in at the _Akuma_, its sword at the ready. When it was within five meters of the _Akuma_, it swung its blade around, in an arc that would have taken it right through the _Akuma_'s head, but the _Akuma_ raised its left arm and blocked the sword high on the arm, allowing the sword to cut deep into the armor surrounding the PPC barrel.

Before the _Black Dragon_ could pull the sword out for another attempt, the _Akuma_ fired all its weapons except those on the left arm at the _Black Dragon_. The _Black Dragon_ staggered, then fell to the ground on its back. Several pieces of metal flew out of its exposed front armor, which Renford guessed to be pieces of its gyro. By the Dragon, that kill was _fast_!

The _Wolf Trap_ had also gotten close, but was not unscathed as the _Avatar_ fired on it, tearing out chunks of its arm armor. The _Wolf Trap_ replied with its own autocannon, but missed again at the _Akuma_.

His own _Hunchback_ was not attacked, and Renford began to feel flustered as he realized that his company was plain outmatched in this engagement.

_Go ahead, or pull back? Retreat, or slug it out? _Renford agonized as he brought his heavy autocannon to bear on the _Akuma_, while changing the ammo selection to cluster shot. If nothing else, the shotgun effect of the LBX should at least guarantee a few hits on the damn _Akuma_!

Then the decision was taken out of his hands when the flanking red dot took up position firmly behind him. Akagi could not believe his eyes when his sensors told him that a clan omnimech, a _Nobori-Nin_, was blocking their path of retreat.

This was turning out to be a very bad day.

Descartin tried hard to suppress a grin as he slammed one foot of the _Akuma _on the _Black Dragon_'s head section, pulverizing the cockpit and the mechwarrior inside.

It had taken some time to get used to the 'iron sight' technique for firing the medium range missiles, but their prodigious firepower was amazing. The dumbfire missile rack and ammunition construction allowed more of them to be launched compared to other missile systems. Descartin knew many clan warriors and scientists had pooh-poohed the idea, preferring the finesse and versatility of the ATM system instead, but after using them in action, he discovered that MRMs were very effective in close combat.

"The trap has shut." Yoshino had reported from his _Nobori-Nin_. Meanwhile, Secorra had led his pursuers into a merry chase through the city, and was arcing back now. By the time the rest of the DCMS company arrived from chasing Secorra, Descartin was confident his motley group would have finished off the _Hunchback_, the _Grand Dragon_, and the _Wolf Trap_.

The _Hunchback_ had fired its LBX shotgun autocannon, but the slugs had missed high, instead demolishing the sixth floor of an office block. The broken glass windows had rained down on the Akuma, but Descartin did not mind it one bit.

Because he returned to the _Hunchback_ what it had tried to do to him. With interest.

The PPC carved into the _Hunchback_'s center torso just moment before his LBX autocannon, set to slug, did the same. He followed up with two medium laser bursts, all into the same location, and finished up with another salvo from the MRM rack.

The _Hunchback_ pilot ejected out of his mech on trails of smoke, which opened up into a parachute drifting down slowly into the city.

"_Tai-i_ Saeba, get some of the infantry to fetch that pilot." Descartin said.

"Hold on." Ryo grunted, as he was still fighting the _Wolf Trap_, which had run past Descartin's _Akuma _in a last ditch attempt to breach the Palace defenses. Descartin turned the _Akuma_ around in time to see the _Wolf Trap_ finally collapse from a laser barrage from Ryo's _Avatar_.

"Tough little bugger." Ryo grumbled. "What was it you wanted me to do?"

Descartin repeated his request, which Ryo immediately carried out. Yoshino had finished off the _Grand Dragon_ when Secorra jumped towards them in his _Black Hawk_. His pursuers were nowhere in sight.

"They broke off the engagement when they saw they had lost the rest of their company. Cowards." sneered Secorra.

While he did not say it out, Descartin thought that was the best move from the Black Dragons yet in the battle.

The lance patrolled the area for three more hours, with the pilots catching up with one another on their experiences. The infantry had secured the _Hunchback_ pilot, who was an enemy officer, and escorted him to the Palace under heavy guard. An officer POW was a valuable prize. There were no more attacks for the time being.

Then Ryo shouted for attention, "Uh guys, trouble!"

"What is it this time?" Descartin asked.

"The east side of the Palace defenses are collapsing. The Otomo are taking heavy losses."

"I thought they had a battalion there," Descartin recalled the holographic map, and the units arrayed in the city.

"Yeah, well, they're going down. Somebody managed to dredge up a whole regiment and threw it at them in attritional combat. CLG is killing them right now."

"The Otomo is an elite unit. That's not possible." Yoshino stated flatly.

Ryo sighed heavily over the comms. "Yeah, but consider that the regiment can throw its battalions at them one at a time in close quarters, then pull back for repairs when they get hurt, and then carrying on with the next battalion. How long do you think anybody can go on without repairs?"

"So what next?" Secorra asked. "We still have our orders, and that is to hold this area."

Descartin shook his head, though he knew none of the others could see it. "No, we have to support the Otomo. Look at it this way. If we leave this area, yes, the Black Dragons _might _send another force through. But if we leave the Otomo to fight on their own, then the palace _will_ fall. Ryo, your orders?"

"Don't ask me. We didn't exactly decide on who's in charge."

Descartin said, "So let us vote on it. Who agrees that we should go help the east side defenses? Ryo?"

"Aye."

"Yoshino?"

"_Hai_!"

"Secorra?"

"Neg. I know I am outvoted, but my objection stands."

"So noted." Descartin said. "Let us move as quickly as possible. Ryo, inform the infantry in the area that we are leaving. This is going to be a hell of a gamble."

As they moved through the empty city, gradually falling into night, Descartin was sure all of them were thinking the same thing. What could a lance of mechs do against an entire regiment?

_Tai-sa_ Aritomo Osada looked on with satisfaction from the cockpit of his _Atlas_ as he saw the beleaguered Otomo battalion struggle for its survival. A light show of laser beams and missile explosions could be observed near the Palace, where his troops were destroying the Otomo.

His Third Dragon Legion regiment, the third and last of the secret regiments to be formed by the _Kokuryu-kai_, had worn down the elite Otomo by fighting up close, no difficult feat in urban terrain. At point blank ranges, even the greenest warrior could inflict heavy damage. By rotating his battalions out whenever their armor started to run low, he had conserved his forces while expending more ammunition and armor supplies, which he felt was worth it in the long run. After all, it was always easier to repair mechs than it is to replace trained warriors. The Otomo had no such luxury, and were forced to stand in place and trade shots with each fresh wave of attackers.

And now, at the end of a long day of battle, he had finally hammered the Otomo down to the point where he could smash them flat with one last charge.

The other assaults were not having much success, but at least they were tying up the rest of the defenders, preventing them from coming to the aid of the Otomo battalion. The failed assault on the south side by elements of the First Dragon Legion was the most disappointing, for Osada had fully expected the attack to succeed. The loss of an entire company there indicated that there was a substantial enemy mech force there, and nobody was eager to throw more troops at it when the east side was about to collapse.

He guided his _Atlas_ closer to the battle, where his first battalion had gone back into the fray, much of their worst damage having been repaired already. Osada reminded himself to commend the technician teams after the battle was won. They were hard at work on his second and third battalions, with the second battalion almost ready and the third just shutting down in their repair racks.

The already battered Otomo were barely hanging on, unable to give up ground or maneuver because to do so meant allowing the Black Dragons to assault the Palace. It was a battle with only one conclusion.

A blinking light on his communications console alerted him to a transmission from the commander in charge of the infantry pickets flanking his line of attack.

"_Tai-sa_, we have detected mechs inbound on your rear in sector 487. Numbers unknown, but some of them seem to be moving fast. We have detected at least one lance." And that meant there could be as many as two companies ready to tear into his rear. He shuddered at the thought of what fresh units could do to his unit.

Where could those units be coming from? Possibly, the Palace defenders had assigned the group guarding the south side to catch his force in a pincer. In any case, that incoming threat had to be dealt with. He had no reserves left, but second battalion was almost ready.

They'll have to do.

"_Chu-sa_ Kodai, move your battalion over to sector 486 to intercept unknown number of bogeys."

_Hurry up_, he urged his first battalion. _Take care of the Otomo, and this attack on our rear won't matter._

Ryo paced Descartin's _Akuma_ steadily, while they advanced on the enemy regiment's rear.

Descartin said, "Secorra, Yoshino, get ready to break for their repair facilities. With luck, you might be able to catch them in their racks and get a few cheap kills. After three minutes, break for the Otomo and press the attack into the rear of the enemy force. Ryo and me will try to draw off the rest. We only need the enemy commander to think he is facing more mechs than just us four."

A simple plan, except Ryo didn't like the part about him being bait.

"Descartin Winters, you're kidding when you said we're going to draw away their troops, right?"

"Neg. We really are going to draw off their second battalion."

Ryo rolled his eyes. "Oh right! Two against thirty! No problem! Just like in the arcades, eh? One mechwarrior wiping out hundreds with one blast from a PPC each!"

"You do not have to be so sarcastic."

"Okay, okay. Uh oh, the infantry are attacking!" SRMs were corkscrewing at them from dug-in infantry in the buildings. He switched on his lights, in order to see better.

Descartin did not waste any time, "Yoshino, Secorra, break for the repair depots now!" The _Nobori-Nin_ and the _Black Hawk_ accelerated off to one side, then using their jump jets to lift themselves over several buildings.

"Follow me!" Descartin yelled as his _Akuma_ suddenly moved faster than Ryo could believe it possible, charging right into the path of the entrenched infantry. Its LBX autocannon and pulse lasers blazed away, sending the infantry in the vicinity into headlong retreat.

Ryo switched his display to the radar screen, and sure enough, there was a company of mechs approaching their position.

"Let's move!" Ryo shouted, moving his _Avatar_ parallel to the enemy company. The speed at which they were moving suggested another medium weight close assault company.

As his _Avatar_ swept past the _Akuma_, Ryo noticed his targeting sights failing to get a lock on Descartin. It had happened before during the defense of the south sector, but he had put that down to a equipment malfunction.

Well, as long as his systems still worked on their enemies, he felt it was no big deal.

A _Raptor_ broke from the cover of some buildings, and Ryo blazed away with glee, his PPCs smashing into the Raptor before his autocannon finished the job firing for all it was worth. Descartin had taken up a position directly facing the approaching company, which Ryo was grateful for because it would shield him from most attacks, and also because the C3 telemetry from the _Akuma_ would be very helpful to his own marksmanship.

Two light _Owens_ appeared next, only to be shot to bits almost immediately, followed by a _Strider_ and a _Hitman_. The two warriors blazed away with their guns, and Ryo was dimly aware of the laser beams, missiles, and autocannons all missing the hulking _Akuma_ as it stood in the way of their advance.

The area in front of the _Akuma_ started to become a killing zone, as mech after mech appeared and tried to face off against the _Akuma_, only to be smashed down by its tremendous firepower. A _No-Dachi_ appeared, but was cut down before it could reach the _Akuma_ and use its sword.

The two warriors gave ground slowly, not wishing to let themselves be surrounded. The enemy battalion seemed to take the _Akuma_'s presence as a personal affront, and forsook other tactics in favor of a straight on charge.

Ryo was sweating heavily by the time they took down their tenth mech, a quad chassis _Bishamon_. Yet more enemies were appearing and pounding away at the _Akuma_, seemingly without effect.

Ryo had no wish to push their luck any further. "Descartin, there's too many of them! Pull back!"

"Neg." Descartin's voice was eerily calm. "We can win this. Trust me."

_Just my luck to be stuck with a crazy clanner!_ Ryo thought in growing panic as he saw an entire assault company line up in front of them. _Buddha help me!_

_Just my luck to be stuck with a crazy clanner!_ Yoshino thought as Secorra landed his _Black Hawk_ right on top of a parked _Tai-Sho_, which sent the assault mech toppling over and crashing to the ground in a shower of sparks.

They had managed to evade the sparse defense around the repair lot, where an entire battalion of mechs were receiving much needed armor replacement. There were about a lance of mechs chasing them, but Yoshino and Secorra had agreed that their primary targets should be the immobile and vulnerable mechs.

It was a turkey shoot so far, and Yoshino had to bite down his own sense of outrage at taking advantage of a hapless enemy. After all, it was the Black Dragons who started this whole thing first!

He fired his pulse lasers at a _Battlemaster_, tearing into its interior, its armor having been removed beforehand for some other repairs to its insides. An erg of energy was transmitted to the mech's ammunition bins, and it went up in a shattering explosion, knocking over two other mechs parked nearby. Throngs of panicked technicians and mechwarriors raced under the stomping feet of battlemech; Yoshino was sure he had left more than a few red splotches on the ground.

An impact on his rear told him of his pursuer, a _Crab_, firing at him for all it was worth with the large lasers mounted in the claws and the lasers in the torso.

Yoshino ignored it, spotting another juicy target, a stationary _Shugenja_. He launched his streak missile packs at it, aiming for the cockpit area. The missiles slammed into the broad surface of the head in an explosion of brilliant orange, wrecking the mech for the time being.

"Two minutes!" Secorra was counting down for the two of them. They had taken two minutes so far, and they would be breaking off the engagement soon.

Yoshino finally turned his mech around to face the _Crab_. He gave it a dose of pulse laser fire, before sending a full 12 SRM salvo into it. The _Crab_ lost its balance, sliding to the ground. It immediately began to try to get up.

He turned the _Nobori-Nin_ away, seeking better prey. The sudden appearance of red dots on his radar informed him of enemy mechwarriors having successfully started up their machines. They might be heavily damaged, but they might delay him and Secorra enough not to let this skirmish matter.

"Secorra, forget about the rest!" Yoshino shouted. "We need to go now!"

"Aff! Lead the way!" The _Black Hawk_ appeared on the rear view of his display, as a storm of laser and PPC blasts chased them as they ran away from the repair lot.

For two mechs, they had done quite a lot of damage already.

Osada stared at his screens in disbelief. He was not sure what exactly happened, but his second battalion had just missed an enemy mech element sneaking past, and they had managed to wreck havoc amongst his third battalion undergoing repairs.

And his second battalion was taking heavy losses against what seemed to be a whole enemy elite assault company, as reported by a frantic _Chu-sa_ Kodai.

And worse of all, the Otomo were stubbornly refusing to die. Their numbers had been whittled down to less than two companies, but his first battalion was no closer to the Palace walls.

Osada slammed a fist down onto the armrest of his command couch. They had been so close…

He could not be sure the enemy would not break past his second battalion. He could not be sure his first battalion could break through before the Otomo reinforcements arrived. He could not be sure there were more enemy units moving up to further tear his damaged unit apart.

No, better to pull back and defend what he had. The Otomo were not going anywhere. Once the Seventh Sword had mopped up the last of the Second Legion of Vega, the Black Dragons would have no less than four battlemech regiments ringing Theodore Kurita in a circle of steel. The First and Third Dragon Legions, the Seventh Sword, and Vance Rezak's Band of the Damned. The result was a foregone conclusion.

As he ordered his units back, Osada thought, _your time has come, Theodore Kurita._

Descartin felt the fire of adrenaline leave his body as he watched the enemy withdrawal.

Despite his words to Ryo, he had actually been worried about the enemy force. It had been close. The _Akuma_ was in bad shape, having endured a massive amount of enemy fire. His skills had kept it in the fight, but just barely.

Ryo's _Avatar_ was as equally bad off, but at least the two of them were still moving. Which was much better than the wreckage of at least 16 mechs layered around their immediate area.

Ryo panted, "I didn't believe this would work. Did you expect this?"

Descartin paused for a moment, before admitting, "Actually, I did not expect this to work either."

A loud thump over the comms, probably the sound of a neurohelmet being thrown, and a prolonged yell of sheer outrage from Ryo forced Descartin to switch off his receiving unit to save his eardrums from bursting.

Descartin led the impromptu unit into the mech bay they had started out from, to loud applause from the gathered techs and warriors. His _Akuma_, Ryo's _Avatar_, Secorra's _Black Hawk_, and Yoshino's _Nobori-Nin_.

It had been a close run thing. Another minute of action would have seen the east side defenses collapse completely. As it were, the enemy forces had pulled back, and the Otomo were likewise able to pull back into the Palace for repairs. Their intervention had been the deciding factor.

Descartin only had eyes for Isis as he climbed out of his mech cockpit. He slid down a ladder set up next to his cockpit, and hugged Isis in an embrace almost instinctively. The other members of the lance joined the two of them, a limping Ryo being supported by Yoshino and Secorra.

Then Tina and Wolkul pushed past the throngs of technicians, and Tina flung herself at Ryo to the DCMS warrior's great delight, then worry as he realized he was trying to support her with an injured leg. The look of pain on his face told the rest.

The crowds parted to provide a path for the Coordinator to approach them, his bearing stern, but the smile on his face a truer indication of his feelings. One hand held Kitsune by his side. Theodore bowed deeply to Descartin, and the clan warrior bowed back hurriedly, not sure of the custom in this case.

"_Konnichi-wa_, brave warriors." Theodore Kurita said, his eyes cycling round each warrior in the lance. "What you did today was incredible, attacking an entire regiment with just 4 mechs, and it will forever be remembered, but this battle is not over yet."

All the warriors present nodded solemnly.

Theodore continued, speaking to his gathered audience. "We are trapped, with many enemies of the Dragon seeking to destroy us. Yet I am sure with such brave warriors like Descartin Winters, Ryo Saeba, Secorra, and Yoshino Ihara," Descartin saw Yoshino start as he had not been introduced to the Coordinator yet, "We will prevail!"

Theordore turned back to them, "Star Captain, this battle may not be over yet, but I hope you will accept whatever hospitality we can offer at this dark time. Rest yourself and your men. They have shown true honor and courage today."

Descartin nodded, "Thank you, Coordinator."

Kurita walked away, and the crowd slowly dispersed as everybody went back to their tasks, leaving Descartin with his group of friends and allies.

Without warning, Isis suddenly slapped him on one cheek. Descartin almost spun to the ground, but he managed to recover in time to look incredulously at her for a moment before she hugged him again.

Then he realized she was crying into his chest, "I heard what you did to save the Otomo. That was so stupid! Don't you do anything like that ever again!"

His face glowing a bright red, and not just from the slap, Descartin looked at his friends for help to handle the situation, but Secorra simply shrugged his shoulders, and walked off to get some food, while Ryo had already disappeared with Tina to somewhere else.

Only Yoshino and Wolkul was left staring at him.

Yoshino commented, "Wow, Des, you sure are fast, picking up a girlfriend in just over a week!"

Descartin could only splutter out a confused "What?"

Yoshino cut in again, "So what had you exactly been doing this past week?"

Descartin rolled his eyes as he noticed Isis was no longer crying, but looking up at him impishly. It was going to be a long story.

Duke Hassid Ricol stared at the holographic map of Imperial City. Many of his plans had gone awry, most prominent of which had been the attempt on that damn Steiner-Davion half breed.

Still, his forces had taken relatively little losses, and they had largely eliminated resistance everywhere else other than the Palace. The local mech production facilities of Luthien Armor Works had been captured intact, though the technicians had managed to trigger a safeguard virus which would take months to eradicate, and in the meantime deny his forces use of the production lines.

Theodore Kurita was still alive, and that could only mean the strike team he had ordered to infiltrate the Palace had failed. It was no matter. Ricol had ages to plan for this operation, and he always had one backup plan after another. One way or another, Theodore would no longer be Coordinator.

His thoughts turned to Jubei Kurita. A distant cousin of the Coordinator, he was quite like Angus Kurita, the Black Dragon's earlier attempt to supplant the Coordinator. Except in this case, he was sited quite safely on Albiero, awaiting the fall of Luthien They had learnt from their lessons.

Ricol was determined to be the power behind Jubei, and Jubei himself was a weak and easily controlled individual. Ricol had no doubts whatsoever about his ability to control Jubei. He had already picked out his cabinet, his generals. All loyal to the Black Dragon's cause.

Luthien would fall within the month, Ricol was sure of it. Then with Jubei Kurita installed on the throne, and himself as the power and brain behind the throne, the Combine can start to press gloriously onto the other Successor States once again. First reclaim the shattered remnants of Rasalhague, then drive out the Noiva Cats, and claim their advanced technology for himself. Then drive towards the shattered halves of the Federated Commonwealth. The weak defenses of the Draconis March and the Isle of Skye made them very tempting targets.

Hohiro Kurita might be a problem, but Ricol was certain he had enough forces from the DCMS to crush any loyalist regiments. 40% of the DCMS had come over, their loyalties bought by his agents long ago, and further strengthened by the events of the past few years. With so many troops at his disposal, Ricol was confident of success.

He recalled his old nemesis Grayson Death Carlyle.  It was such a disappointment that he would not be able to face off the old mercenary in another match across the tactical chessboard, but he was sure he would find some entertainment out of destroying Grayson's son in the Skye Province, after he controlled the Combine.

Ricol laughed as he took a sip of his _sake_. He might be beholden to the Word of Blake for this effort, for it would not have been possible without their funding, technical support, and intelligence assets, but he had no intention of obeying their commands once he was firmly ensconced as the Combine's ruler.

After all, what could they do to him? 

Sorry for making you guys wait, but I was helping Loren Coleman with… something. ;)

This chapter marks the start of the Black Dragon Rebellion, an extensive operation aimed at overthrowing the Coordinator and installing another Kurita onto the throne, one more receptive to the idea of conquering all of humanity. Obviously, Ricol's part explains much of it. The next chapter for Descartin will explain even more.

I'll put up the stats for the mechs of Descartin's scratch lance in a while. The Akuma and Black Hawk-Ku have C3 slaves, while the Avatar mounts a master C3 computer. Yoshino's Nobori-Nin would also be outfitted with a C3 slave by the next Luthien chapter.

All of you guys are real adrenaline junkies, do you know that? Jeez, 15000 words of action, and you guys want even more? Sheesh!

Next up, we go to the Taurian Concordat, where I'll present Cray's Troll battlearmor design. But for now, here's another design from my TRO:3070, that will appear in later chapters in the Combine. This was my attempt to counter clan mechs using a L1 design!

Type/Model:    Tengu TNG-4U

Tech:          Inner Sphere / 3070

Config:        Biped BattleMech

Rules:         Level 1, Standard design

Mass:          55 tons

Chassis:       Cosby II Standard

Power Plant:   275 CoreTek Fusion

Walking Speed: 54.0 km/h

Maximum Speed: 86.4 km/h

Jump Jets:     5 Pitban LFT-10 Standard Jump Jets

Jump Capacity: 150 meters

Armor Type:    Starshield Standard

Armament:      

  1 Lord's Light PPC

  3 Diverse Optics Type 20 Medium Lasers

  1 Shannon Six-Shooter SRM 6

Manufacturer:  Cosby Battlemech Research Firm

  Location:    Vega

Communications System:  Garret T-11C

Targeting & Tracking System:  Garret D5J

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Overview:**

Always looking for a way to expand their market share, Cosby Battlemech Research Firm came up with the Tengu, a cheap and dubiously effective mech designed to soften up clan mechs for its more expensive brethren.  
Although noted by many warriors as potential deathraps, the planetary defense militias of the Combine, especially on the clan border, were more than happy to have at least a machine that they could afford, and was capable of fighting on very little support.

**Capabilities:**

The Tengu was built around spare engine parts left from old technology 275 rated engines from the Griffin, Shadow Hawk, and Wolverine mechs. CBRF bought these parts at high discount prices, since hardly anyone used them anymore.  
Surplus jump jets for the three Star League designs were also strapped onto the Tengu, enabling it a jump distance of 150 meters. This has proven to be an excellent way to counter the faster speed of clan designs.  
Weaponry was also procured at extremely cheap prices. Discarded Lord's Light PPCs were placed in the Tengu's arm, providing it with a heavy offensive punch at range.  
For offensive ability at shorter ranges, it has three medium lasers and a Shannon SRM rack. While not as efficient as a streak launcher, the system is cheap and easily maintained.  
12 heat sinks provide adequate venting, but firing all the weapons can easily overload the mech's cooling systems.  
Due to the nature of the design, CMRF placed a great deal of emphasis on pilot survivability. A solid alloy cage surrounds the pilot for extra protection, and the entire head module is jettisoned in the event of an ejection, much like that found on the Wolfhound.

**Variants:**

The Tengu is easily upgraded with some modern technology. By swapping out the heat sinks for double strength freezers, the PPC for an ER version, and the SRM for a streak rack, along with CASE, the Tengu becomes an excellent workhorse design for 400,000 more C-Bills.  
Most of the upgraded models are found in the household guards of the Combine's nobles.  
Most interesting was the fact that Ghost Bear units have salvaged quite a few Tengus as well, and used their superlative technology to upgrade the mech's weapons. The IIC version mounts extended range energy weapons, and replaces the SRM rack with an ATM-3.

**Deployment**

Tengus are found mostly along the Clan border, where they serve as cheap cannon fodder to soften up any clan attack before the real mechs of the DCMS engage. More often than not, the defenders were able to recover the Tengus and their pilots after an attack.

--------------------------------------------------------

Type/Model:    Tengu TNG-4U

Mass:          55 tons

Equipment:                                 Crits    Mass

Int. Struct.:  91 pts Standard               0      5.50

Engine:        275 Fusion                    6     15.50

   Walking MP:   5

   Running MP:   8

   Jumping MP:   5

Heat Sinks:     12 Single                    1      2.00

 (Heat Sink Loc: 1 LT)

Gyro:                                        4      3.00

Cockpit, Life Supt., Sensors:                5      3.00

Actuators: L: Sh+UA+LA+H    R: Sh+UA+LA+H   16       .00

Armor Factor:  152 pts Standard              0      9.50

                          Internal    Armor

                          Structure   Value

   Head:                      3          9      

   Center Torso:             18         22      

   Center Torso (Rear):                  7      

   L/R Side Torso:           13      16/16      

   L/R Side Torso (Rear):              5/5      

   L/R Arm:                   9      15/15      

   L/R Leg:                  13      21/21      

Weapons and Equipment    Loc  Heat  Ammo   Crits    Mass

--------------------------------------------------------

1 PPC                    RA     10           3      7.00

1 Medium Laser           RT      3           1      1.00

1 Medium Laser           LT      3           1      1.00

1 SRM 6                  LT      4   15      3      4.00

  (Ammo Locations: 1 LT)

1 Medium Laser           CT      3           1      1.00

5 Standard Jump Jets:                        5      2.50

 (Jump Jet Loc: 2 LT, 2 RT, 1 CT)

--------------------------------------------------------

TOTALS:                         23          46     55.00

Crits & Tons Left:                          32       .00

Calculated Factors:

Total Cost:        5,060,956 C-Bills

Battle Value:      1,062

Cost per BV:       4,765.5

Weapon Value:      667 / 667 (Ratio = .63 / .63)

Damage Factors:    SRDmg = 15;  MRDmg = 7;  LRDmg = 2

BattleForce2:      MP: 5J,  Armor/Structure: 4/5

                   Damage PB/M/L: 2/2/1,  Overheat: 2

                   Class: MM;  Point Value: 11


	10. Calderon

_One man with courage makes a majority._

-Andrew Jackson

_Majority ain't always right._

-Frank Meronac

_Samantha, Taurus,_

_Taurian Concordat, Periphery,_

_28th August 3068_

"You will not do anything that might anger Ian Calderon." Word of Blake Precentor Roger Mills said tiredly for the umpteenth time as he stared at Protector Grover Shraplen sitting behind his desk, trying to impress onto the other man the necessity of patience.

"How can I not?" Grover shot back. "You saw what happened, is happening to the Draconis Combine! Civil war! Insurrection! I will not let it happen here in the Concordat! And Ian Calderon _will_ be dealt with!" He pounded one fist on his desk for emphasis.

"And it won't happen, not if you just leave him alone!" Roger's own patience was fraying, and he knew he was close to just drawing his own pistol from its holster and shooting that idiot through the head.

Things had been fine until news had arrived a few days ago over the HPG net of the civil war exploding in the Draconis Combine. Luthien was under heavy attack, while at least 4 prefecture capitals were likewise embroiled in conflict, with the rebels grabbing a slight edge by dint of good preparation and the surprise factor.

Roger knew the Word of Blake had been involved in there somewhere, but only on the most general of terms. The specifics were on a need to know basis for the top ranked officers of the Council, and he was not one of them.

Grover had almost ordered the immediate arrest of Janice and Ian Calderon on New Vandenburg when he got the news. His orders had reached the local HPG station under the control of the Word of Blake, and Roger had pulled rank to halt its transmission until he had hashed out the issue with Grover.

Grover was saying, "And how would you know that he won't be plotting treason with Brenda Calderon? That woman has 1st Corps under her thumbs, for God's sake!"

"Blake's sake." Roger corrected coldly. "And since she has 1st Corps on or near New Vandenburg, all the more reason to hold back and not provoke them. You want to start a civil war with the enemy in their very stronghold?"

For all his words, Roger was not certain if Ian was indeed planning rebellion. Ian had said he was not, and Roger was inclined to believe him. But one can never tell, not in these unsettled age. Ian might very well change his tune once he had a closer feel of the Taurian people's sentiment.

And by invoking the words 'civil war', Roger was trying to warn Grover off. Nobody wanted one, not after witnessing at first hand the devastation just coreward of the Concordat. Unfortunately, Grover seemed intent on believing that civil war was imminent anyway.

"And what of the Davion agents on New Vandenburg?" Grover persisted.

Roger shook his head exasperatedly. "Those are not Davion agents! They are just free traders negotiating with Milton Hawkings for raw materials and goods to import into the Federated Suns." At least, that was what his ROM analysts had told him, and they had no reason to lie, not when the situation was in danger of spiraling out of control if they gave him wrong intel.

"Milton Hawkings." Grover hissed. "Another traitor."

"You don't know that."

"I don't need to." Grover stared at him. "His actions since his father died were all directed towards undermining my authority."

Roger sighed. "If he had really wanted to do that, he could have very well taken the blueprints and production lines for the new Troll class battle armor and produced them under private license for 1st Corps and 6th Corps, since it was his company that designed them in the first place. Why would he allow their distribution to the entire Taurian Defense Force at all?"

"It's all part of his plan to make me feel secure. He cannot be trusted."

"Let's get back to Ian." No point arguing with Grover about the actions of Hawkings right now. "He's on New Vandenburg simply to see for himself what Hawkings Consortium can do. Stop seeing shadows in every corner."

"And if he's planning rebellion?"

"If he is, there's nothing you can do about it right now." Roger stated flatly. "Wait and see, for a time when you might better halt this nonsense without pissing off too many people."

"Why are you helping him, shielding him at every turn?" Grover remarked suspiciously, his eyes scanning Roger carefully. "I thought your order wished me to lead the Taurian people to security and peace. Why are you going against that?"

"I am not. I'm trying to help you preserve your rule, and by extension, helping the Taurian Concordat. The Word of Blake wishes for it to be a strong nation, so that we can grow together in peace." Roger was beginning to regret his Order's role in helping Shraplen ascend to the Protectorship, courtesy of a 'stray' shot. Couldn't they have found someone more… stable?

"Preserving my rule? Hah! Then get your ROM to remove Calderon and get this over with just like with Richard."

"No. You overestimate their abilities." Roger seethed, his face dark. ROM was good, but so was Ian Calderon and that Benny Greaves. It was too risky. Any more loss of important personages after the jumpship accident of Richard Calderon and Lorelei Centrella would be too fresh in the minds of the Taurians, making Ian a convenient martyr. _Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Never mind if it was an accident or not._

Roger continued angrily, "More importantly, I am not at your beck and call. You are at mine. Do not, do not _ever_, tell a member of the Word of Blake what they can or cannot do!" He threw down his final trump card. "We can replace you easily, and hand the Taurian Concordat to somebody else more amenable to the welfare of its people." _And to us_, he added in his mind, though he suspected Ian wouldn't fit the bill. "Would you like us to reveal to the people how you were complicit in buttering up Sherman Maltin and encouraged his ambitions?"

ROM knew very well what Grover had done, had plotted, to remove or convince Jeffrey Calderon so that the Concordat would stop dealing with the hated Davions. What Grover did not know was that ROM had an even greater say in convincing Sherman, and that they had killed Jeffrey to pave the way for his ascension. Which suited Roger just fine. The Word of Blake's image had to remain clean, untainted. They could handily place all the blame on Grover if he ever fouled up. A convenient blackmail.

Grover paled. "You wouldn't…"

"You can lie to your people. You can lie to your daughter. You can even lie to yourself. But you. Cannot. Lie. To. Us." Roger drew out his final sentence slowly, punctuating each word. He took satisfaction from the way Grover blanched.

He started to walk for the door, not bothering to face Grover any more. "Do not take any action against Ian Calderon. If you wish to preserve your rule, then sit tight. Until the rebels make their first move, you are not to do anything." He opened the door, and walked out

Roger Mills walked down the corridor leading from the Protector's office, not looking back even once. He wondered to himself, _Ian Calderon, what are you thinking of now?_

_Liberation, New Vandenburg,_

_Taurian Concordat, Periphery_

Ian Calderon tried not to look too impressed as he looked at the rows of assembly lines manufacturing component after component for various mech class weapons, as well as for the new Taurian Troll class battlearmor, designed by a Hawkings Consortium team headed by an engineer by the name of Mike Miller.

They were being led on a tour of Hawkings Consortium's spanking new factory complex near New Vandenburg's capital city Liberation. A beaming Milton Hawkings had introduced them to Miller, who proceeded to show them around the place.

Even halfway through the tour, Ian already had no doubt they would be able to accomplish miracles with the Einstein facilities. The speed and efficiency with which the workers assembled the various weapons and machines was simply breathtaking.

"By having a sectionalized molding process, we could establish assembly line techniques for the rapid production of components for both mechs and vehicles. There is no reason to use hand craft methods to build each suit of battle armor or battlemech when their components could be built separately and assembled on site, with each worker specializing in a particular task. This also allows us to push down the cost for each machine to just about 60% of the price using previous techniques."

That was something Ian had never quite figured out. Why did every other mech production line use what was akin to hand craft methods to build mechs, which slowed down their production speed? And he decided to ask.

"So why didn't the other companies do it the same way?"

Mike snorted derisively. "The old excuse of instability on moving racks got old when we had cranes capable of holding and moving 300 tons of material. It was a holdover from the time when the production of battlemechs and their components were big secrets. The usual techniques were slow, sure, but they also relied heavily on a few supervisors who had to know everything. That meant less people to kill or shut up if they should ever defect to some other firm, and less chance of a defection because the important techs would know about the possible punishment. Then I think it was bureaucratic weight and red tape that made it sort of a tradition. No sense in it nowadays though."

"For a production line methods like ours, there's no way we're gonna keep our component blueprints a secret, because even the lowest assembler knows a lot of what he's doing, and knows it well. Grab enough of our people, and they'll learn enough. Hell, getting a whole mech might be a bit tough, but at least they'll know the basics a lot easier."

"And you're not worried?" This question was directed at Milton.

Hawkings grinned slightly. "No. It's quite simple. We're out-producing everybody else. To compete with us, they'll have to abandon their old ways of doing things, which is going to be rather difficult considering the profits they're making by limiting the number of mechs on the market. This is something Mike didn't mention. The demand for mechs is such that the houses didn't really care how expensive mechs were; they'd pay through the nose for them anyway. So the companies were free to jack up prices by limiting the supply, just like with any other luxury good. Basic 101 economics."

"Why didn't the House governments force them to produce more?"

"Many of the industrialists were nobles themselves. With the clout they had, the House governments had no chance. I know, it seems like cutting off your nose to spite your own face, but there've been cases where they did go on accelerated production in times of crisis, like during the clan invasion. But once the crisis was over, they reverted back to type."

Ian nodded, accepting Hawkings' explanation. "You're earning less with your method. For somebody who seems obsessed with the bottom line, I find it rather out of character."

"Consider it a civic duty." Hawkings' grin grew wider. Ian was slowly coming to the realization that Milton Hawkings was first and foremost a Taurian at heart. "Most of the new production line battlesuits are being routed to the Taurian Guard and 1st Corps. In addition, the first run of _Concrete Rats_ have been sent to the Taurian Guard. The Concordat will be well prepared should another incident like the Fighting Urukhai one occur again. And the incidences on New Avalon and Luthien have shown us the usefulness of machines geared specially towards close quarters combat."

Ian nodded in agreement, as his small party consisting of Daniela Mattlov and Benny Greaves walked past several half finished _Concrete Rats _on a moving platform, supported by huge appendages to hold them in place, obviously in various states of completion, factory workers swarming over them like Lilliputians over various metal Gullivers. On one mech, the myomer bundles on the arms were still visible through the half finished armor carapace, and Ian's practiced eye could see that the mech was close to being finished.

The mention of Luthien and New Avalon worried him, but a HPG message from Frank had assured him, though the blackout from Luthien since the HPG station there had fallen did not. Even more surprising was that Frank was awarded the Silver Sunburst for his actions during the battle. A full report of events was still on its way, but at least Ian knew his friend was safe.

Ian turned his thoughts back to the visit. The factory could crank out two new mechs _every day_. Ian, who had once managed to visit the _Victor_ facility on Styk in the Chaos March, which produced at a rate of only 12 mechs per month, had been astounded. His mind toted up the numbers from the Hawkings facility. 6 _regiments_ per year! He wondered if he should be glad the mech production line had started working barely a few days before he arrived, after two jumps from Taurus on an hand-off jumpship express arranged by Milton.

"So, what do you think, Commander Calderon?" Hawkings asked as he led them into an office. Miller left them, probably to get back to his real work.

"Very impressive." Ian admitted easily. "Your production techniques and economic know how would be a massive asset in the event of a joint venture with my mercenary unit. There's still the fine print to go over, but I would say right now that you have what my unit needs, and I don't have to look any further."

Hawkings smiled. "So you agree to this joint venture?"

"It's a deal," Ian walked up and offered his hand to Hawkings, who shook it firmly. "My lawyer from Outreach will be on his way here, and he should be here about 4 months later. Meanwhile, I may roam around the Concordat for a while. We'll finalize the deal and hammer out the details when he gets here."

"I think," Hawkings said hesitantly, before plunging on, "that you should pay Brenda Calderon a visit at her estates."

_Not this again!_ Ian groaned inwardly. "And risk setting off Grover Shraplen? I don't think that's such a good idea." _I don't want trouble. Just let me finish my business, and I'm off, dammit._

Hawkings seemed to have dug his heels in. "In fact, your sister Lady Janice is staying there for the moment. I'm sure she'll enjoy your company."

"I don't see why not." Benny added, rather unhelpfully. Ian shot Benny an angry glare, but the short mechwarrior simply ignored him.

"Ian, why should you be so concerned with what this Grover thinks?" Daniela asked seriously. "You have a clear conscience; what others think is their problem."

Ian stared at her for some long moments, noting the concern for him on her beautiful face. _She has no idea of the politics of illusion and reality in the Inner Sphere. _All too often, illusion would become reality, and that was what Ian was most afraid of. _Because if I feed into the illusion, it might very well become real._

He sighed in exasperation. "Okay, a visit to her estate wouldn't hurt." _Much, I hope._ "Benny, make the call."

As Benny flipped out a mobile phone to call Janice Calderon's security people so that they could arrange for the retired Marshal's own household retinue, Ian was shown on a wall display the specifications for the various machines Hawkings was producing. First up was the Troll.

The Troll class battlearmor was designed specifically for the Taurians' need to bolster their space defenses. Somehow, Hawkings' engineers had managed to create an analog of the Harjel substance used by the clans, and incorporated it into the battlearmor.

The result was a surprisingly tough battle armor design well suited for the rigors of space combat, while packing a sizable punch with its laser and various mounted weapons. The presence of a cutting torch on one arm was a mystery at first, but Ian quickly recalled cases of boarding assaults being halted by security bulkheads and even being trapped by crafty defenders. The cutting torch would be invaluable for these operations, and also for hasty repairs on space vessels.

"Impressive, quiaff?" Daniela commented as she looked over the Troll with an experienced eye. "I have heard of similar efforts made by the Snow Ravens to develop similar suits for use in space. Doubtless those will be far superior to this."

"That's clan technology for you," said Ian amicably. Even in the Taurian Concordat, after a few months with them dirty Spheroids, she still couldn't let go of her own clan prejudices. Not that he expected her to do that quickly. The simple fact that she hadn't denounced the Troll outright as 'shoddy workmanship' was already a positive sign of the changes she was accepting in her life. Ian knew he couldn't have done half as well if their roles had been reversed.

He added, "And all the more impressive because this is coming from the Periphery, right?"

"I do not like to admit this, but I am surprised by the state of affairs here. I had thought of…" Her voice trailed off, apparently unwilling to continue.

"Barbarians in chainmail wielding swords?" Ian finished for her, grinning. "I'd like to see them myself!"

She scowled at him for a moment, before it turned into a rueful smile. "It seems your people have done a lot with very little since the fall of the Star League."

"Yeah, but we've still a long way to go." Ian noted Milton typing quickly into a computer console, while Benny observed the features of the new _Concrete Rat_ with interest.

"That is new." Daniela commented.

Ian was puzzled, "What is new?"

"You used the word 'we'. Does that mean you already view yourself as one with the Taurian Concordat?" She looked at him appraisingly.

Ian wanted to kick himself for that Freudian slip. He could not quite figure out if it came from his subconscious, or if he was only fooling himself when he kept insisting that he had no designs on the Protectorship.

_I don't, so deal! _If there was any way he could have eliminated that tiny sliver of doubt on his current decision to stay out of the Taurian Concordat's problems, he would have done so.

He turned to Daniela, grimacing. "No, I don't think so. Just used to thinking of myself being a Taurian, I guess, even after so long. Bad habit. I intend to change that." He smiled weakly.

Daniela did not seem too convinced, folding her arms across her chest, while arching an eyebrow in amusement. "Really? I think you are just trying to lie to yourself."

"I don't know," muttered Ian, keeping his voice low to prevent Hawkings from hearing him. "It'll be best for everybody if I wasn't."

To Benedict Greaves, Marquess Brenda Calderon's estate was a typical setup for a retired military officer granted a noble title. A quasi-military fort guarded the front entrance to her holdings, while several bunkers tucked away in certain strategic corners indicated heavy defensive weapons mounts.

The guards at the entrance fort were crisp and professional, while the weapons they bore were clearly well taken care of. All in all, it seemed like Brenda Calderon took her security very seriously. Benny had imagined mechs to appear from under the ground for even the slightest identification discrepancy.

After a short check, they were waved through, the vehicle passing under the arches of the fort, past the gates. As usual, Benny drove the hovercar, while Ian and Daniela sat in the back. Benny observed that Ian's face was expressionless, as though he did not want anybody to know what was on his mind.

Benny was clearer than most of what Ian was grappling with. But he personally did not quite understand what all the fuss was about. The Taurian people wanted Grover out. That was evident from the many stinging opinion editorials flooding the media over the past few weeks. Strangely enough, most of those articles were calling for Brenda Calderon or even Cham Kithrong to be Protector, with Kithrong being regent for Erik Calderon if his ward really was Jeffrey's son.

There was no mention at all of Ian.

Benny wasn't quite sure what to make of that. It seemed like they were operating in stealth mode since the incident at the Protector's mansion. There were a few possible reasons, and Benny knew all their names. Grover Shraplen, the Wobblie Precentor, and Milton Hawkings himself. Janice Calderon had also been circumspect when asking around the noble families that comprised the elite of Taurian society. And if Ian was being kept from the eyes of the public, there had to be some sort of plan Janice and Hawkings were cooking up. Obviously, Grover also had every reason to keep Ian away from the media.

As he turned the hovercar around a corner, Benny thought about the many twists and turns he had endured to even find the lost Calderon. Slogging through the morass of the Chaos March in battle after treacherous battle with Rasouf's Rangers, and then stepping into the most vicious campaign he had ever witnessed on Einstein.

And his instincts as a warrior told him more battles, possibly even worse than what he had seen so far, laid ahead.

Since he had sworn his allegiance to the MIB when Ian had insisted on it, by extension he was also loyal to Ian. And if it had been his place to do so, he would have told Ian outright to challenge for the Protectorship, and to hell with everything else. The odds would never be better, but Ian seemed adamant that a civil war be avoided at all costs.

Despite all official claims to the contrary, Benny had seen enough of the Fed Com Civil War to know this sort of outcome wasn't possible any more. He guessed Ian knew it as well, but simply refused to accept the reality.

It was just too bad. Perhaps Brenda Calderon as a retired officer with firsthand experience of Grover's missteps could convince him. She was a far removed cousin of the ruling line, but that did not stop many Taurians from touting her as a possible replacement for Grover.

The GPS display next to his steering wheel beeped once, indicating that they were nearing the Marquess' castle proper. The castle Brenda Calderon stayed in was sited on top of a sizable hill, and Benny could glimpse further defensive emplacements on the slopes, positioned amongst the thickly forested area, evidence of New Vandenburg's status as one of the most heavily defended worlds in known space. The hovercar strained at times to on the slopes, forcing Benny to shift down to a lower gear to get enough power.

The castle was an old structure, a holdover from the days when the Taurian Concordat was fighting for its very independence against Aleksandr Kerensky's thugs from the Star League during the last days of the Camerons. As heavily armed and armored as a Castle Brian, it was built as a sign of resistance against the Star League Defense Force, a place for the Taurians to rest and recuperate during their war. Since then, it had been the home of nobles governing New Vandenburg, itself a world granted not as an inheritance, but as a reward for retired military officers who had served the Concordat with honor.

He wondered what Daniela would think if she knew of the castle's past.

"We're almost there." He told his two passengers. Ian nodded, straightening his jacket, while Daniela did the same. The clan mechwarrior even took out a small makeup kit from a small compartment in her handbag, and made a few adjustments to her face, looking critically at the mirror as she would a tactical map. Benny suppressed a grin.

Benny knew Daniela had been taking lessons from Janice Calderon, but the idea of a female clan warrior using makeup still terrified and amused him in equal parts. Terrifying because she might lose her combat edge, amusing because well, she's a clanner!

There was another security checkpoint waiting for them when they approached the castle gates. There was a very traditional wide moat around it, along with a heavy alloy drawbridge capable of supporting the heaviest assault mechs, controlled by massive servos and motors.

They passed through the checkpoint without any problems, and moments later were led by the household chamberlain to the meeting room. Benny noted that they were not inspected for weapons, and allowed to bring their own sidearms into the presence of the Marquess. It was something which most nobles would never allow, not even in the Taurian Concordat.

_Hmm… I didn't know Brenda Calderon followed the Taurian constitution that closely_. It basically guaranteed the right of every Taurian to bear arms, a wise decision considering the ever present threat of piracy and invasion from the Houses. There was also the well-documented side effect of deterring crime. His regard for the retired Marshal rose up a notch.

Marquess Brenda Calderon stood up to greet them as they entered the meeting room, walking past the door while the chamberlain announced them. As usual, Benny was left out of the introductions, which suited him just fine. His _modus operandi _was to hang back and observe events, not to get involved himself. He took up a position beside the door. There were two stone faced guards in the room as well, standing impassively in various corners. Their eyes roved around the room attentively every few seconds, the only hint of their presence as living beings and not statues.

"Good afternoon, Baron Calderon. Welcome to New Vandenburg." Brenda said as she shook Ian's hand. The Marshal was a woman of average height, her white hair cut short around her head, wearing a quasi-military worksuit.

"Thank you Marquess, for hosting us today." Ian gripped Brenda's hand firmly, then bend down to Janice in her wheelchair to give his sister a welcome hug. He gestured to Daniela, "This is my aide Major Daniela Mattlov." She bowed her head slightly.

It was after the reception that Ian had decided that Daniela needed a proper rank. So he simply gave her a Majority and a position as his aide, which was entirely reasonable. The rest of the MIB was still in the process of regrouping and reintegration, but Colonel Feehan had been confident they would be ready for some action in about 3 more months. Ian had designated himself, Daniela, and Benny as his command lance, with one more slot to be filled once they got back to Einstein or when a suitable candidate could be recruited, whichever happened first.

As Ian and Daniela sat down facing the Marquess, Benny leaned back against the wall, relaxed but alert, and watched the discussion silently.

"How was your journey here?" Brenda asked. An innocuous question, but Ian was immediately put on the alert. Something in her tone of voice indicated that she had other things waiting to spring on him. "I hope you found it pleasant."

"Yes, it was. There was no trouble during the jump out to the pirate point. Having certain points designated as jump points throughout the year was an excellent idea that cut down on the system transit times in Taurus and New Vandenburg."

"I was the one who suggested it in the first place several years back when your brother was in power." She sighed wistfully. "Those were good times for the Concordat."

That sent alarm bells ringing in Ian's mind. He had no doubt where the conversation was going to end up.

Brenda went on, "But things are different now. Grover Shraplen is driving the Concordat into ruin, and I'll not stand for that any longer. I've sat on my ass long enough, and Janice here has given me a lot of information on what we can do to get rid of him."

She leaned forward in her seat, her eyes piercing into him, "So, what do you think?"

"What do you want me to think?" Ian asked back. "I know what you want me to think. You want me to think that the Concordat is in trouble and that Protector Grover has to be removed from power, one way or another."

He went on, reclining into his chair, "But that's not what I really think. I think the Concordat is simply in a state of flux, and that Protector Shraplen will come to his senses soon. I think any other outcome will be too ghastly to contemplate. Furthermore, I think, I _know_, that I'm the last person you should look to for help."

"Ian…" Janice started, but he cut her off.

"I'm tired of listening to all of you. You want me to take over. Well, it's your turn to think of what that means. I left the Concordat years ago to seek my own destiny, in effect abandoning my duty to succeed my father. How well do you think that will play with the public?"

"Next," Ian did not give them a chance to interrupt, "I have no experience at all in interstellar politics. I have no idea of how a government works. Don't even ask me to deal with stuffy bureaucrats."

"Bottom line, I'm not interested and not qualified. Go look for somebody else to serve as a figurehead if you want to rebel. This can only end in tragedy, but apparently you'll believe otherwise." Having finished his tirade, Ian grabbed a glass of water off the table to wet his dry throat.

To his surprise, Brenda Calderon did not react with anger. She laughed. Ian blinked in confusion.

"Excellent, Janice! Excellent!" Brenda roared as she spoke at Janice. "I had to see for myself if what you had told me was true. And I am not disappointed!"

Janice nodded sagely. "He is stubborn, but then again, so are we."

Ian looked from one woman to another, and gritted his teeth. "I'm not going to change my mind."

"Ian," Brenda smiled, "If you had come in and started sprouting off about how great you are, how you are going to lead the Concordat back onto the proper path, I'd have thrown you out in an instant. At this moment, the last thing we need is a willing dictator. What we need is an unwilling dictator to unify the various factions against Shraplen."

Realization dawned on Ian. "You want me to be your Cincinnatus."

"Who is Cincinnatus?" asked Daniela.

"Just a historical figure," replied Ian, waving it off. "Ancient history."

"Ian, trust me when I say that the civil war is inevitable," said Brenda. "It's just a matter of time. Baron Kithrong just barely resisted breaking his holdings away from the Concordat several years ago because he believed he could do better for young Erik. But since it didn't happen, and with all the additional problems cropping up on our borders, the noises against Shraplen are only getting stronger. And trust me when I say Grover Shraplen will never step down willingly."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because I have the best interests of the Concordat at heart, and I don't wish to see our nation sundered permanently by war nor excessive damage when somebody could stop the madness by replacing Grover."

"Best interests? Do you know how many times I've heard that line in the Chaos March?" Ian sneered. "Every trumped-up little despot there claims to have the best interests of their people in mind. Nobody ever goes ahead and do something that could kill a thousand, a million people without justifying it to themselves that by doing so they'll save a lot more first. It's always 'for the good of the people' or some godforsaken ideal. And then everything goes downhill. Sorry, but you'll have to do better than that." He had seen too much, experienced too much, to ever believe that easily.

Janice groaned. "What will it take to convince you?"

"I'm sorry, Janice, but I've not seen anything that tells me that the Concordat is in trouble. Unsettled, perhaps, but nothing that time won't solve. Shraplen now isn't as bad as Father was back then. If he was, then maybe you'll have a point. But just not now."

Brenda let out a long breath. "Alright then. Janice, forget it." She fixed her eyes on Ian. "You would have made an impressive Protector. You think yourself unqualified, but who isn't? You have built a mercenary battalion up from nothing, and that is no small achievement. All the things you have gone through have only made you stronger. You are capable of it, if you would only believe."

Ian smiled slightly. "Maybe so. But an entire star nation?" He shook his head as he stood up from his chair. "Give me the roar of a thousand guns, than the horns of royal court."

Brenda rose with him, bowing slightly. "Baron Calderon, you're welcome to stay here for your time on New Vandenburg. You're also more than welcome to inform me if you ever change your mind."

Ian shook his head again. "I don't think so."

Daniela Mattlov looked out the balcony, enjoying the sensation of the wind on her face and hair. The evening sky was an beautiful azure haze, white clouds flecked across its vast expanse. Dinner, as usual,  had been excellent, and she had feared she was losing her edge with such a sedentary and luxurious lifestyle in the past few months.

She sensed somebody behind her, and turned her head around slowly.

"Nice scenery," Ian Calderon walked up to her, and leaned on the balcony railing with his elbows. "I didn't know you were interested in looking at the sky."

She closed her eyes, feeling the breeze on her face. "It was something I just made a habit. I find doing this very calming, especially in the evening."

"So compared to all the worlds you've been to, where does New Vandenburg rank?" Ian asked jokingly.

Daniela pursed her lips, and answered seriously, "Well, it ranks in my top five. The evening scene is certainly spectacular." The clouds seemed to fly across the sky as she spoke, propelled by the high winds.

"And the rest of the planet?"

She shrugged. "Still a bunch of uncivilized savages," she smiled inwardly at Ian's frown, "but I am beginning to understand why the Periphery fought so hard against the Star League in the beginning. I do not savor the thought of my fellow clansmen attacking here."

"You do know the Taurian Concordat uses nuclear weapons in its defense?"

She shivered as she recalled passages in the Remembrance. "The Not-Named clan used them, and the fallout, no pun intended, was truly severe. I dread the consequences if the clans ever reach this part of space."

"Are you afraid for the clans, or the Concordat?"

"Both." She faced him. "I have realized that even if we take Terra, it would mean nothing if we cannot conquer the rest of the Inner Sphere and the Periphery. The Word of Blake holds Terra now, but they are not the rulers of humanity any more than we are."

She thought back to all the history she had learnt over the last few weeks. The sheer hatred of the Concordat towards the memory of the Star League of the Camerons was very different from the wistful nostalgia of the people of the Lyran Commonwealth. It had been a good thing that Ian did not introduce her as clan to most strangers. From what she had garnered from the news holovids, the attitude of most Taurians towards the clans was only a shade better than their attitude towards pirates.

Ian sighed. "I'm glad you've realized that, but what about the rest of the clans?"

"Time should do it, if nothing else." She leaned with her back against the railing. "By the way, who _is_ Cincinnatus?"

"You heard of the Romans?" Ian asked, and Daniela nodded. "Well, to make a long story short, in their early days, they were led by a council of voting men, and it wasn't exactly effective when they were trying to wage a war against a neighboring tribe. So they needed somebody to take the reins, a temporary Khan, if you prefer, who would step down when the crisis was over. So Cincinnatus was this retired Senator who got the call, and he got them the victory. He could have declared himself dictator for life, but he went back to his farm instead."

"And Marquess Calderon believes you'll do the same for the Concordat."

"Yes, but with certain differences. The Concordat isn't a republic. It's still a feudal nation, and even if I somehow become Protector, which won't ever happen, I'll never be able to step down."

"Why are you so afraid of being a ruler?" She had observed Ian, and she had thought it strange for a man of his abilities. "You can do better than this Shraplen, quiaff?"

"Do better? That's an opinion, not fact. And I'm afraid not just because I might botch up, but because that road will be a bloody one. I don't want that. That's why I want to stay out of this."

"I think you must regret ever coming back here."

"Yeah, a bit. But I do miss the Concordat, and this trip hasn't been a waste. With luck, Dacort will arrive soon, and we can formalize the deal with Hawkings."

"You still think too much like a merchant at times."

Ian shrugged, "Well, I am a mercenary, after all, and to us, war is a business. Meanwhile, how's your memory trip with that Jenna coming along?"

"Not very good." Daniela shook her head. The amnesiac warrior had made some progress, and was even able to recall all the clan terms in common use, but still had no idea of who she was or where she had served. Jenna had accompanied them to New Vandenburg, along with the rest of her company of Red Chasseurs. In the end, Daniela had given up, and Milton Hawkings had decided to pay for a psychologist trained in hypnotism to treat her instead. At last with her own efforts, they had some information to start with.

Daniela continued, "It would certainly be nice for her if she recovers her memory. But it is not really that important. She is a warrior, and serving with honor. What else is there?"

"Don't discount the past so readily. It'll sometimes pop up and bite you at the most unexpected moments," said Ian dryly. "Oh, after all this talk, I almost forgot about I'm going to tell you."

She arched an eyebrow. "And that is?"

"Because Grover will panic if we stay here for too long, I'm thinking of going to Illiushin to wait."

"Why that particular world?"

"If you remember, I've a noble title. Because I'm a Baron, I was also granted a piece of land on Illiushin as my personal fiefdom. For the years I've been away, Janice had been taking care of it. I think I should at least go there and take a look." He grinned sheepishly. "Actually, I've never been there myself."

Daniela rolled her eyes. "No wonder I find your people difficult to understand. Giving away land to people who might never see it themselves! At least with our Trials of Possession, we know what we're fighting over."

Ian went on, "So tomorrow we'll be taking a three jump journey to Illiushin, and once there, we'll just relax and train in our mechs until the lawyer arrives, and we can finalize the deal. Then we'll leave the Taurian Concordat for Outreach, where we'll shop around for a contract."

Daniela did not like the sound of being a mercenary, but she had lost to Ian fairly and squarely on Einstein, and so she had resigned herself to her fate. At least her genes were guaranteed inclusion into the breeding program back in the Jade Falcons, and Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth had reassured her of that.

"You do not seem to care for what might happen in the Concordat." She observed. "What if war does break out, no matter what you do or did not do?"

His eyes were haunted as he replied in a whisper, "Then I might not have a choice in the matter at all."

"Is it ready?" Brenda Calderon asked Brigadier Andre Pharoh, who was standing in front of her desk.

He nodded solemnly. "Yes, Ma'am. Our operatives are in place and ready to leak the information to the Shen-Se Tian informants here about Landsmark. We've pulled my two lances of Chasseurs off the world, leaving it defended only by two lances of militia mechs and a company of armor, just enough to suggest a weak target, but not so obvious as to suggest a trap. I estimate that the pirates will strike about 6 days after the information is leaked. Subaltern Doe's company is ready to lift and trap the pirate scum and their jumpships once they attack."

Brenda closed her eyes, calculating the odds and dates. The outbound trip from New Vandenburg to the nearest jump out point would take about 8 days. A jumpship would be jumping out to Landsmark on the 5th of September. Recharging in Landsmark would take about 7 days. The pirates would have to arrive between the 5th and the 12th at the nearest pirate point, taking about 4 days to arrive on the planet.

She nodded to herself. "All right, tell your operatives to leak the data on the 1st of September." Which meant the pirates would arrive at or about the 7th or 8th of September. "Subaltern Doe's company will lift on the 31st of this month. Make sure that everybody knows that her unit is supposed to be heading out for Detroit for refitting. The jumpship her unit is traveling on has lithum fusion batteries, so that'll be a great help in our subterfuge."

"Ma'am?" Andre prompted for her explanation.

"Any information from Landsmark to here about the attack will not arrive sooner than the 9th, which means the pirates will not consider Jenna's company as possible reinforcements because she'll have jumped out to an uninhabited system. She'll double jump, and arrive in Landsmark on the 10th to capture their jumpships at the pirate point with the new Troll battlesuits, as well as to pursue and engage them on the ground. Landsmark doesn't have much in the way of proximity pirate points, and the pirates are almost certain to use the one with the least transit time. Going by their past raids, the Shen-Se Tian will also commit two companies of mechs. Give Jenna another company from the first battalion, and make sure she understands the importance of this mission. I want the pirates dead, by any means necessary."

"Understood Ma'am." Andre saluted smartly, and left the office.

Brenda thought about what she had _not_ told the Brigadier. Ian Calderon would be arriving in Landsmark on that jumpship, just in the right place at the wrong time. She had every confidence that the Baron would deploy himself to the planet to defend against the pirates. The presence of Xie Xun, who was also going to Illiushin on an inspection of the production lines there, virtually guaranteed that they would intervene. After all, the Shen-Se Tian were made up of former Capellan nationals, an affront to the CCAF officer.

So Ian Calderon would have to fight there. If he survived and won, it would be impossible for Grover to suppress the resulting publicity, thus thrusting Ian firmly into the public spotlight, and making it impossible for him to get away, and the Taurians given a good look at a possible candidate for the Protectorship. Grover would likely be driven mad by this, enough to start making some serious mistakes.

Of course, if Ian died or lost in disgrace, then they'll have to start looking for another option. But Brenda did not think that was likely. Not with Jenna's two additional companies as backup. Not with Ian's own assault force of mechs upgraded with clan tech, with Xie's own _Men Shen_ thrown in.

_I don't need to convince you, Ian. _Brenda smiled to herself grimly. _I only need to force you onto the path. One way or another, you will accept your duty as a Calderon._ The next few weeks were going to be very interesting.

_Samantha, Taurus,_

_Taurian Concordat, Periphery_

Grover Shraplen stared hard at the report from his agent. Ian Calderon would be jumping for Illiushin instead of staying on New Vandenburg. Grover knew he should be feeling relieved that the mercenary was not going to stay and plot treason with Brenda Calderon, but he could not shake the feeling that here was an opportunity to get rid of this particular thorn in his skin before it dug in too deeply.

_Recharging in Landsmark takes 7 days_, he recalled. He hated doing this, but it had to be done if he was to remain in power and guide the Taurian Concordat. He pressed a button on his intercom.

"This is Protector Shraplen. Get Eric Sunds up here."

Eric Sunds was one of his most loyal advisors, and had many contacts with the underworld. The idea of hiring pirates for a job was a bitter taste in his mouth, but it was his best option. Once the Concordat was past its present troubles, he could deal with the problem of piracy once and for all.

He could already visualize the plan in his mind. Eric would act through a series of middlemen, ostensibly on his own initiative without Grover's orders, to get rid of Ian Calderon. He would hire a pirate band, which would jump in and capture Calderon's jumpship in Landsmark on the 9th of September, and at the same time remove the mercenary permanently.

And then he would be able to sleep soundly again, without worrying for his position, because if Brenda Calderon, Janice Calderon, and Cham Kithrong had been unable to topple him so far, what more could they do? No, Ian Calderon was the unpredictable factor, and one to be removed from the chessboard before he grew too powerful.

Sure, he would be going against Roger Mill's specific instructions, but he could hardly care less. If all went well, he would present the Precentor with a _fait accompli_, and the Precentor would just have to accept it. After all, the Word of Blake had as much riding on his rule as he had relying on their assistance.

There was a knock on his door, and Grover composed himself mentally as he recited in his mind what he was going to say to Eric. _The fate of the Concordat depends on me._

**Travis Grant**: Thanks for your help in picking though the first part of this chapter. Still, I'm not sure if I'm vague enough on the Richard Calderon incident.

**Tangmeister**:  Back to the slow no-action pace. Sorry, and please bear with me.

**Sphinx**: Not too much action here. Am I doing fine on the politics part? Can somebody tell me? I'm beginning to realize why writers tend to avoid politics in sci-fi. It's just too difficult.

**Flamearrows**: Descartin got the PMA in NWO. The part where they were being flattened by monster mechs. It was almost certainly a last stand type of situation to allow the PMA to kick in. You're not an adrenaline junkie too, are you? Sorry for this boring chapter.

**Marywnn**: Hah! No can do on the Loren Coleman part! I'm just confident his next novel will be loads better than the POS we've been given since Call to Arms, the last good BT novel. Also, I've already explained the yak situation.

BTW, interested in having your unit guest star in the fic for the Drac chapters? ;) Got (actually stole) the idea from JA Baker. ;)

**Aeain**: Anything else to add? Like requests for certain mechs, characters etc. More than happy to oblige, if I can.

**Mbwun**: Thanks for the kind words. The yak problem has been explained.

**The General**: Small team of assassins would not have worked, since Victor's security unit is understandably top-notch. As for a nuke… well, it would work, but the Davions would have gone into a frenzy, and god(or Blake) help whoever was behind it!

**GiJoe**: Nah, not to say Battletech is totally unrealistic. Semi-realistic, would be my take.

**The OgeeboogieMan**: Yeah, I'm a bit sick of characters in the novels piloting top line mechs and thrashing everybody else on merit of their equipment and not their abilities. And I do want Frank to go through all sorts of shitty situations to prove himself. I already have several nice ideas, like fighting in the midst of a volcanic eruption, a death from above attack on hovercraft on rivers, playing cut and thrust with enemy artillery units on flatlands. The action on Terra will be nothing anyone has ever seen!

**KuritaFan**: PTTTBBB!!!

**eddy_s**: Well, people speak the way they think. I'm not an expert in psycholinguistics, but I do remember reading somewhere that a person's speech is definitely affected by his thought processes. Obviously, all(or most) clanners think without contractions as well.

Here's my rant on Silence in the Heavens. Begrudge me this bit, because I _had_ to get this off my back. Not that I'm looking for a tome on the order of David Weber or John Ringo's works, but it sucked. Not as bad as "Ruins", but bad enough.   
The lightning bit was preposterous. Sure, lasers ionize air molecules, but where do you suppose all the excited electrons went? The writer has zero grasp of basic physics(okay, maybe that ain't very basic, but still...).   
In actual fact, ionized atoms(or molecules) are positively charged, but the ejected electrons would also _surround_ the path of the laser which excited them in the first place. The charge density on the target material, in this case air with perhaps some moisture, is simply too low to draw any lightning. Add in the fact that it's covered by a blanket of negatively charged electrons makes it even more unlikely.   
In other words, that whole bit is a bit of writer ignoring physics to achieve a desired outcome.   
Sorry, but I absolutely had to get that monkey off my back, because I was that pissed. I was hoping for a long, drawn out, drag-on knock-down battle with lots of dead bodies and wrecked machines, with the Wolves repulsed through sheer blood and guts, but instead they gave us... whatever they gave us.

I had to wash my mind with Hell's Faire. Now that is a real sci-fi action novel to sink your teeth into. I can't recommend it enough. Eat antimatter, Posleen boy!!!

Next chapter brings us back to Luthien. Again, there'll be action galore.

The chapter after that is the major clusterfuck on Landsmark. When I got the idea for that chapter, I was reading Murphy's Laws. That chapter's foreword is obvious. "Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong."

With two pirate bands and a wild space battle with marines and battlesuits, fighting in the shitty(and stinking) swamps of Landsmark, nobody is going to have an easy time for that chapter.

Here's the stats for the Concrete Rat. By the way, I've put up the beta edition of TRO: 3070 at my website armory(spoilers there, so avoid if you don't want to know too much!), as well as the beta edition of my upgrades folder from HMP. I'll put up an updated 'upgrades' file once I gone over all the designs again for House compatibility.

Type/Model:    Concrete Rat CTR-1A

Tech:          Inner Sphere / 3070

Config:        Biped BattleMech

Rules:         Level 2, Standard design

Mass:          35 tons

Chassis:       Rat Endo Bone Endo Steel

Power Plant:   140 Hermes Fusion

Walking Speed: 43.2 km/h

Maximum Speed: 64.8 km/h

Jump Jets:     3 Hawk Wings 4 Standard Jump Jets

Jump Capacity: 90 meters

Armor Type:    Starslab Standard

Armament:      

  1 Photon Extender ER Large Laser

  2 Bunsen Burner Flamers

  2 Bee Stingers Machine Guns

  1 Photon Prick Small Laser

  2 Photon Vanillium Medium Lasers

  1 Squareshooters SRM 4

Manufacturer:  Hawkings Consortium

  Location:    New Vandenburg

Communications System:  Hawk Tardy Talk 476

Targeting & Tracking System:  Eagle Eye TY67

--------------------------------------------------------

Type/Model:    Concrete Rat CTR-1A

Mass:          35 tons

Equipment:                                 Crits    Mass

Int. Struct.:  58 pts Endo Steel            14      2.00

 (Endo Steel Loc: 1 HD, 4 LA, 3 RA, 3 LT, 1 CT, 1 LL, 1 RL)

Engine:        140 Fusion                    6      5.00

   Walking MP:   4

   Running MP:   6

   Jumping MP:   3

Heat Sinks:     10 Double [20]              15       .00

 (Heat Sink Loc: 2 LT, 3 RT)

Gyro:                                        4      2.00

Cockpit, Life Supt., Sensors:                5      3.00

Actuators: L: Sh+UA+LA+H    R: Sh+UA+LA+H   16       .00

Armor Factor:  112 pts Standard              0      7.00

                          Internal    Armor

                          Structure   Value

   Head:                      3          9      

   Center Torso:             11         16      

   Center Torso (Rear):                  5      

   L/R Side Torso:            8      12/12      

   L/R Side Torso (Rear):              3/3      

   L/R Arm:                   6      11/11      

   L/R Leg:                   8      15/15      

Weapons and Equipment    Loc  Heat  Ammo   Crits    Mass

--------------------------------------------------------

1 ER Large Laser         RA     12           2      5.00

1 Flamer                 RA      3           1      1.00

1 Machine Gun            RA      0  100      2      1.00

  (Ammo Locations: 1 RT)

1 Small Laser            LA      1           1       .50

1 Flamer                 LA      3           1      1.00

1 Machine Gun            LA      0           1       .50

2 Medium Lasers          LT      6           2      2.00

1 SRM 4                  LT      3   25      2      3.00

  (Ammo Locations: 1 RT)

CASE Equipment:          RT                  1       .50

3 Standard Jump Jets:                        3      1.50

 (Jump Jet Loc: 1 CT, 1 LL, 1 RL)

--------------------------------------------------------

TOTALS:                         28          76     35.00

Crits & Tons Left:                           2       .00

Calculated Factors:

Total Cost:        2,781,023 C-Bills

Battle Value:      757

Cost per BV:       3,673.74

Weapon Value:      554 / 554 (Ratio = .73 / .73)

Damage Factors:    SRDmg = 19;  MRDmg = 7;  LRDmg = 2

BattleForce2:      MP: 4,  Armor/Structure: 3/3

                   Damage PB/M/L: 3/2/1,  Overheat: 1

                   Class: ML;  Point Value: 8

And here're the stats for the Troll. These were modified from Cray's original design. These were created using rules from the CBT Companion.

Taurians have a reputation for their space marines, one well founded in the Reunification War. This is a well-founded reputation, so when battle armor technology trickled into the Concordat, it immediately looked at the space applications for battle armor. 

The benefits were obvious: thicker armor to protect wearers from both the hostile environment and enemy weapons than a merely spacesuited marine could carry. Heavier weapons for longer range attacks and faster hull breaching. Extended maneuverability. 

Hawking's Consortium was among the first to start research on space battle armor, and its prompt submission when the Taurian marines called for it was an excellent example of foreplanning. Hawkings was smart enough to have two slightly different versions, one for the space marines, one for the ground forces.

The Space Troll is an unwieldy but effective battle armor, weighing 1500kg. Its maneuverability is low and its armor only comparable to Clan standard armor, but it was one of the first and most capable space-specialized armors fielded. The Taurian's space adaptation system on the Troll features a system comparable to the Clan enhanced hargel system used on Clan space armors, thus giving the Troll similar resistance to damage in space. A twin-layered liner holds two chemicals, polymeric precursors (like the two separate tubes of epoxy applicators). When ruptured or torn, the chemicals mix, foam, and solidify (like that spray-in plastic foam insulation). The system has problems compared to hargel. Namely, both precursors are somewhat toxic to humans, especially when blasted into wounds; both are skin irritants; and getting the solidified foam out of hair is obnoxious. However, the system has its advantages: it does not need to be flushed out every so often, and solvents (like acetone) do a fine job of dissolving the foam and precursor chemicals prior to repair of damaged armor. The Concordat extended the Troll's life on the battlefield with an ECM system that will (hopefully) hide it until it can board a ship. 

The Space Troll has few other features of note: a 60-meter jump capacity (2/3 thrust in space), 20kph ground speed, two basic manipulators, AP weapons mounts on the right arm, and a shoulder-mounted support laser. Lasers are the preferred weapon for their lack of recoil, though the Troll's thrusters are designed to compensate for weapons recoil. A cutting torch on the left arm was added for shipboarding actions during both offense and defense, giving the Troll operators the ability to seal hull breaches and doors, as well as to break into sealed doors when on the attack.

Space Troll

Heavy Chassis: 300 kg

Movement:

Ground: 2 MP(80 kg)

Jump: 2 MP(250 kg)

Armor: 9 points standard(450 kg)

Manipulators: 2 Basic(0 kg)

Equipment:

Torso: Space Adaptation (2 slots; 100 kg)

Torso: ECM Suite (2 slots; 100kg)

Right Arm: Support Laser (1 slot; 200 kg)

Right Arm: Anti-Personnel Weapons Mount (1 slot; 5 kg)

Left Arm: Cutting Torch (1 slot; 5 kg)

Left Arm: Modular Weapons Mount (1 slot; 10 kg)

Total: 1500 kg, 2/2/4

The Ground Troll gives up the specialized ECM and special self healing systems for improved maneuverability and an improved sensor suite. Meant for mainly defensive actions, the Ground Troll is only moderately armored, but packs quite a punch with its support laser. The cutting torch is removed for an AP weapons mount.

Ground Troll

Heavy Chassis: 300 kg

Movement:

Ground: 2 MP(80 kg)

Jump: 2+1(Jump Booster) MP(250 kg)

Armor: 9 points standard(450 kg)

Manipulators: 2 Basic(0 kg)

Equipment:

Torso: Jump Booster (2 slots; 125 kg)

Torso: Improved Sensors (1 slot; 65 kg)

Right Arm: Support Laser (1 slot; 200 kg)

Right Arm: Anti-Personnel Weapons Mount (1 slot; 5 kg)

Left Arm: Anti-Personnel Weapons Mount (1 slot; 5 kg)

Left Arm: Modular Weapons Mount (1 slot; 10 kg)

Total: 1490 kg, 2/2/3


	11. Winters

_Draconis Combine military leaders seemed to be sending _Sho-sa_ Vance Rezak to his death when they ordered his battalion of Pesht Regulars to chase down and destroy the Band of the Damned. Later, DCMS commanders ignored Rezak's requests for supplies, reinforcements and rescue when the Regulars' jumpship was damaged. When Rezak finally defeated the leader of the Damned, he installed himself as head of the pirates and in good samurai fashion launched a vendetta against his betrayers. I call that justice. I also call it damned amusing._

_-_Paula 'Lady Death' Trevaline

_Imperial City, Luthien_

_Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine_

_3rd September 3068_

"AIIEEEEE! Hentai!" Screams from the corridor outside could be heard through the open doorway as a mob of enraged female palace servants rampaged through the narrow passageway. There wasn't a lot of them left, after the Coordinator has allowed the bulk of the household servants to melt quietly into the city. But the remainder was still a pretty substantial force.

Isis didn't need to look out to know who they were after. She looked at the warriors gathered around the table clutching playing cards, and they ran the gamut of expressions, from Descartin's exasperated look, Yoshino's sheer resignation, to Secorra's guardedly and appropriately poker face.

There was a loud thump, or more accurately, a series of thumps, and then the swarm of angry women stomped away back through the corridor, all muttering angrily amongst themselves.

A disheveled and bruised Ryo Saeba staggered into the ready room moments later, clutching the few 'prizes' he was able to hang on to in the face of 'overwhelming odds'. His leg was still in bandages, but he did not seem too bothered by it. He grinned triumphantly at the two women in the room, before plopping himself beside Yoshino. He made a show of taking out the lingerie and mashing them into his face, to the groans of disgust from the other warriors.

After being baited like that, Isis had half a mind to smack the revolting DCMS mechwarrior silly herself, but it was considered below a noble like her to sully her hands with a low class pervert like him. Even Descartin had given up on trying to dissuade him. Yoshino Ihara did not even bother to try.

To make matters worse, her latest bodyguard from the Otomo, _Sho-sa_ Eleanor 'Red Witch' Shimazu, did not even seem to mind. Eleanor, or Lainie as she preferred to be called by others, had been forced onto the off duty list of the Otomo roster due to her pregnancy, and she would not have been asked to escort Isis at all if not for the sheer losses the Otomo had taken.

Isis had heard many strange stories about her latest bodyguard, rumored to be the _oyabun_ of Hachiman. The idea of a career criminal serving in such a distinguished position in House Kurita, and a woman at that, was highly confounding. Even more amazing was the identity of her husband, Takura Migaki, Assistant Director of the ISF, who had apparently swept the hard-as-nails Red Witch off her feet about ten years ago. Obviously, the two did not fit any profile of a normal Combine family. Migaki was stuck in the palace as well, doing what he did best, spreading propaganda and organizing filming teams for the defense to boost morale.

"Hah! Full house!" Daisuke Ichikawa placed his cards on the table, smiling from ear to ear, even as the other three players grunted in response and revealed their hands. He refrained from laughing at his luck though, because of the wounds that had yet to recover after he had been shot in the belly days ago. He was clad in a hospital gown, and apparently still unfit for duty.

Not for the first time, Isis wondered at the members of Descartin's Lance Omega, which had already amassed a formidable reputation as they had repulsed one assault after another against overwhelming odds. They were a far cry from the prim and proper Knights of the Inner Sphere her father had gathered around him, yet their exploits were, even by the exacting standards of the Otomo, already legendary.

Descartin had not been hurt after the initial escape towards the palace, and the wounds on his back from the Light Anti-tank Weapon attack did not hinder his abilities in combat. He had racked up an amazing number of kills so far, but Isis worried that his luckj would run out sooner or later.

Yoshino Ihara had taken more than his share of cuts and wounds throughout the siege, as evidenced by the various small bandages over his face and arms, but he was not too troubled by them. As far as Isis could tell, Yoshino had been Descartin's bondsman and chief henchman for a long time, and the two warriors worked together flawlessly, both on and off the field.

The solahma Secorra was an enigma. Quiet and reticent, he spoke only when talked to. Isis knew that he was once one of Descartin's instructors, but neither man would reveal more.

Two days ago, Secorra had ejected from his shattered _Black Hawk-Ku_ during a near suicide run by the unit on a Dragon Legion supply dump that had delayed the Black Dragons' assault, and had almost all his limbs broken when he crashed into a building on his ejection. He was playing poker with his intact left arm, while his other limbs were all swathed with bandages. He sat on a wheelchair, and he was supposed to be in the sickbay, but had managed to persuade his nurse to let him out.

Isis wished it had been Ryo Saeba who had gotten those wounds instead. His antics were raising the blood pressure of every female left in the Palace, and only the need for every fully trained and combat-fit mechwarrior prevented the Otomo from throwing him into the brig for 'improper conduct'. Both Descartin and Yoshino had asked him to tone it down, but Ryo claimed it eased the tension for him.

If the situation wasn't so serious, she might have it slightly amusing.

"Fold." Yoshino Ihara shook his head in disappointment, while Descartin and Secorra did likewise, placing their cards on the table. They all looked to the clock on one side of the wall as Daisuke gathered up the cards to shuffle them.

"What time do you think the briefing would be?" Ryo asked.

"It does not matter." Descartin replied, the only one who did not look at the clock. "The Coordinator will call for us when we are needed."

"Well, he had better some brilliant plan ready, or all of us are going to be dead," Secorra stated matter-of-factly, seemingly not distressed by his pronouncement of doom.

"The _Tono_ is a man of great skill, don't sell him short." Lainie retorted. "He'll find a way out."

Yoshino had opened his own mouth to add his two cents when the PA system blared out.

"Lance Omega, _Sho-sa_ Eleanor Shimazu, please report to briefing room 4A. Lance Omega, _Sho-sa_ Eleanor Shimazu, please report to briefing room 4A."

Isis caught Descartin's eye as he stood up, and grasped his hand. She did not speak, but tried to express her concern for him through her face and the hand contact. He nodded slightly, and squeezed her hand slightly. Then he left the room, leaving her with the two injured warriors.

He eyes seemed to tell her, _everything's going to be fine._

She certainly hoped so.

They entered the dimly lit briefing room together, and Descartin noted the presence of several other DCMS officers. The room was dominated by a long oval shaped conference table with a holotank in its middle, and Theodore sat at the far end, flanked by some of his closest advisors.

"Welcome, Star Captain." Theodore said without preamble. "Please, have a seat."

_What is this about now? _Descartin thought he took a place. The last time his unit had arrived for such a meeting, Theodore had sent his lance on a near impossible deep strike mission that nearly cost them Secorra's life, and did cost them his _Black Hawk-Ku_. Yes, it had been a good move on Theodore's part, but it made Descartin remember an old adage. _Take more than your fair share of objectives, and you will be given more than your fair share of objectives to take._

The holotank sprang to life. Descartin noted with some surprise that it showed the environs of the Kado-Guchi Valley, which he was quite familiar with, even if it had already been fifteen years ago since he was there. He also noted the relative absence of enemy forces in the valley.

"Our stand here is doomed." Theodore said grimly. "We can hold out for another two weeks, but not more than that. I had thought to bunker down and wait for reinforcements, but recent messages we had received from our black boxes indicated that all nearby loyalist regiments are caught up in their own struggles, and those which are free are in no position to arrive in time. As a result, our only option is to retreat and save as much of the personnel here as possible."

"Through the Kado-Guchi Valley," said Descartin.

"Hai." Theodore's eye seemed to gleam for an instant. "We have several dropships in the Waseda Hills, and also an _Invader_-class jumpship hidden at a pirate point in the system. It'll be an easy run to the jumpship once the dropships lift. Only problem is getting the evacuees to the dropship safely, and that is where your lance comes in."

"_Tono,_ I don't understand," Ryo Saeba said, his attitude dead serious, his frivolity of a moment ago gone as he glanced at the holotank. "Why not send the entire Otomo along with you? Why just us?"

Theodore exchanged looks with ISF Director Ninyu-Kerai Indrahar, who was standing impassively in one corner, before announcing, "You are mistaken. I will not be leaving Luthien."

Yoshino blurted out, "_Tono_! You must retreat! The Combine depends on you!"

"_Iie_." Theodore sighed heavily. "It doesn't. Think about it, all of you. Why would the Black Dragons have left such an obvious path offworld?"

They all stared at Theodore in confusion, before Descartin spoke up. "The path offworld is relatively clear. You could leave Luthien." Then he realized what it actually meant. "Neg, they _want_ you to leave Luthien."

Theodore smiled bleakly. "Duke Ricol is a clever one, I grant him that. He offers me this way out, knowing that if I should retreat, I would have lost my honor in the eyes of the Combine. Appearances are important, Star Captain, and if Luthien should fall, the Coordinator will have to fall with it, or his line will forever be disgraced for his cowardice."

"But if you stay, you will die."

"_Hai_." Theodore nodded. "That is the deviousness of Ricol's plans. Either way, he gets rid of me. I do not mind death, but I worry for the Combine if it should fall under the control of the Black Dragons. Because of this, I cannot run. A samurai's death in battle. What more can I ask for?" Looking around, Descartin saw that they had all been resigned to the Coordinator's decision, because he was right. There was no other way.

Theodore paused, "But I still have an obligation to Hohiro, which is why we will be transferring all the important data and records here away to the jumpship. He will find those files useful when he reclaims the Combine."

"But what about the Otomo?" asked Yoshino. Then realization dawned on him as well. "Most of them will never leave your side, not even if you order them."

"There is another reason." Theodore said as he pressed a button on a panel in the table. The holotank image zoomed into the city. "Units leaving the Palace would be vulnerable to enemy attacks before they even reach the valley. I will be leading the Otomo to tie up the Black Dragons in their sectors for as long as possible. They would not be expecting a forward defense strategy, and that should enable us to buy you enough time."

"You mean to say we'll be escorting the data to the dropships," said Ryo. "What about the rest of the Palace personnel?"

"All the wounded and injured will be on the convoy. Star Captain Winters, your lance is short one member, which is why, against my better judgment, I am posting _Sho-sa_ Shimazu to your lance, which will be in charge of the convoy's defense."

"_Tono_!" Lainie, who had been quiet so far, started to protest. "You can't…"

Theodore turned to Lainie. "I can, and I have. Your husband will be one of those in the convoy, and while I appreciate your courage and loyalty, the child in your womb is innocent. I would have asked you to sit this out entirely if it had been possible, but we could not break up any of the remaining Otomo units, and that left you as the last mechwarrior we have left to fill out Lance Omega."

"Welcome aboard, _Sho-sa_." Descartin spoke softly. "I do not like this any more than you do, but the Coordinator is right. This is the only way out." He let out a long breath. "I just wish you had chosen another lance, sir."

"Your lance is the best I have, and while I would have liked to fight alongside you, I can only entrust the safety of my grandson and the Duchess Marik to my very best, and that is you, Star Captain. And another point in your favor is that you had fought in that very same valley before, which is something that very few warriors here have done. Most of the warriors from the battle years ago had already retired."

"I had figured as much. What else do I have, other than a lance of mechs?"

"We have about two companies of APCs, which would be deployed to transport the personnel and data, and several Maxim transport hovertanks loaded with two platoons of Raiden and Kage battlearmor. A lance of Sprint Scout Choppers would be your forward recon, with another lance of Arquebus OmniVTOLs as support, while I still have a company of aerospace fighters left to cover your run and the dropships as they lift off. Do you know how to handle vehicle units?"

Descartin nodded. For once, he was grateful for his time with the Hell's Horses, who used combined arms tactics extensively. "Likely opposition?" He walked around the table, staring at the holographic image.

"From the interrogation of captured warriors, we know there are 3 rebel regiments present in Imperial City. The 7th Sword, and the 1st and 3rd Dragon Legions. Most of them are in the city, but as you can see, there are mech units roaming around in the valley as well. Some of the captured warriors have spoken of rumors concerning a fourth regiment on world, and they might very well be lying in wait along the valley. In addition, they still have substantial artillery assets, even if you had destroyed a great number during your strike two days back." Theodore turned his head to look at Descartin. "This will likely be your greatest challenge yet."

Descartin looked back at him steadily. "I promise you I will do everything in my power to ensure that Kitsune gets to safety."

Theodore smiled slightly. "I know." He walked to a nearby closet, where he took out a clothed bundle. "For what you had done for the Combine, without asking for any reward, I can only offer you this in return. Please kneel, Star Captain."

Puzzled, Descartin did as he was told. Then he saw Theodore unwrap the bundle, revealing two swords in their scabbards, a katana and a wakizashi, and he began to understand. This particular set looked different from the set Yoshino carried, and Descartin got the feeling there was a history behind it.

The scabbards were night black, threaded with intricate thin gold lines. The hilts were wrapped in gray cord, and the pommel-cap and crossguard were the same pattern as the scabbard. The swords looked deadly and magnificent at the same time. Descartin almost felt himself being pulled towards the blades.

Theodore presented the swords to Descartin, who stared stupidly at them for several seconds before Yoshino hissed. "Take them!"

His hands moving of their own accord, Descartin grabbed the swords. He held them in front of him, not knowing what to do next. Again, it was Yoshino who came to his aid, speaking _sotto voce_. "Take the swords and slide them into your belt on your left hip. Then bow, as deeply and respectfully as you can."

Descartin did as he was told, his head almost touching the floor when he bowed. Theodore bowed back, not as deeply, but that was only to be expected. He was still master of the place.

Theodore explained, "I am sorry I can only do this with so few witnesses around, but with the majority of my men preparing for combat, the people present in this room would have to suffice. I know this might not seem like much, and I apologize if you feel this was a slight in any fashion."

"No, sir, this is not. I am more honored than you will ever know." Descartin could not help but feel that there was something fundamentally _right_ about his having the katana and wakizashi. "I am just surprised by this. I am not a citizen of the Combine."

"It does not matter. The _daisho_ will mark you forever as a warrior of the greatest repute and skill. You may not be samurai by training, but you have shown by your actions that you are more than worthy of the title, of the path of _bushido_. This is just my way of validating what everybody here already knew. Stand up, Star Captain, and have a seat."

"Sir, I thank you for the honor you have shown me." Descartin repeated as he sat down.

Theodore said conversationally, "There is a history behind this particular set of swords, and one that you might be interested in. In many ways, it is tied to your heritage."

His curiosity piqued, Descartin asked, "What do you mean?"

"During the age of the Star League, there were numerous mech duels amongst the _ronin_ warriors of the Combine and the soldiers of the Star League Defense Force. Because the champions of the Dragon won with alarming ease in the beginning, many warriors from other realms would step in to help uphold the honor of the Star League."

"In one particular duel, Teruaki Masumoto, then the Grand Champion of the Combine, and holder of the swords you now possess, faced a woman warrior from the Free Worlds League, who had offered to fight for the Star League. Her name was Julia Winters."

"She was my ancestor?"

"Yes. Teruaki underestimated his opponent, because she was a woman, and lost his fight. More importantly, because he had boasted long and loud about how he was going to win, his loss was doubly disgraceful. Unable to take the stain on his honor, and not having earned the right to _seppuku_, he returned these swords to the Combine, struck away his own family name, and resolved never to return until he had redeemed his honor."

"So what happened to him?"

Theodore offered a rare grin. "He ended up marrying Julia Winters. And he never really redeemed his honor, nor returned to the Combine."

Everybody in the room stared at the Coordinator in disbelief before Descartin broke the silence.

"So this belonged to my ancestor." Descartin said slowly, looking at the swords that hung at his side. It was as though they had always been there, even though he had worn them for less than five minutes.

"Yes. It was only because of the evacuation that this bit of ancient history came up, or I would have sent this _daisho_ to the Winters bloodhouse of Clan Nova Cat years ago."

The mention of the evacuation hinted that the time for talk was over, as Theodore continued in a business voice. "The jumpship will be jumping out to Avon, where you should be able to hold out for reinforcements." He turned to Yoshino. "You have extensive estates there, Yoshino Ihara. In order to facilitate matters, I am naming you as the _daimyo_ of Avon, and you will receive the papers just before you leave." Ignoring Yoshino's choked protests, Theodore said, "The ISF propaganda division will help you solidify your grip on the world once you get there. Avon and Kilmarnock are very critical, because any attempt to retake Luthien will depend on them as jump off points. Do you understand me, _Daimyo_ Ihara?"

Descartin saw Yoshino swallow hard before nodding. _Well, there settles the matter of his being my bondsman once and for all._

"We have two hours left. Star Captain, I suggest you get to briefing room 2F to discuss with your commanders. Meeting is adjourned."

As they walked out of the room, all of them were aware that it would be the last time they would ever see Theodore Kurita alive again.

Yoshino was still grappling with his sudden ascension into the nobility when he led his _Nobori-Nin_ out of the mechbay behind Lainie's _Mauler_ and Ryo's _Avatar_. _Daimyo_ of Avon? Him? A warrior who had not even been in the Combine for the past fifteen years, fighting for its enemies?

He didn't know if he should laugh or cry. Add to that the fact that the Dragon would likely be dying this day, and he found himself dreading the uncertainty of the future.

"Attention, all warriors, this is Omega Five." Descartin's voice came over the comms in his neurohelmet. The entire evacuation battalion was tied into the command circuit, even the battlearmor units, which were led by _Tai-sho_ Michael Ryan of the DEST. "The Coordinator himself will be leading the Otomo into close combat with the enemy units in ten minutes. Our objective is to defend the APCs as they move through the city and the Kado-Guchi Valley. Twitty Five, I want your VTOLs to dash out and give us some forward cover once the attack starts. The rest of you will proceed at your best speed along the route indicated in your maps."

Like most good plans, Descartin's scheme was a simple one. Use the Sprints to screen for enemy units and scan for mines and other hidden obstacles. The mechs would be the heavy striking force, with the Maxims covering their flanks. The battlearmor would be deployed to clear any mines found, as well as provide close in melee ability in the forested areas of the Waseda Hills.

What could kill them was artillery, as well as aerospace fighters. And Yoshino got the feeling that just one air company was not going to be enough.

Whatever the case, Yoshino was sure _his Nobori-Nin_ would be ready. It had been configured specially for the mission at hand, packing an LBX autocannon for dealing with aerospace fighters, as well as an array of LRM racks for general fighting. He would leave the heavy mech hunting to the others.

Furthermore, the techs had managed to plug in a C3 slave unit into the clan mech after much hard work, which allowed him to share in the targeting data from the other mechs, as long as Ryo's Avatar did not get cut of by enemy ECM. A hastily installed secondary screen indicated the network status on his left console.

Descartin's own _Akuma_ was still pretty much the same. Ugly, slow, but brutally effective in the hands of a master mechwarrior like Descartin. Ryo's _Avatar_ had not changed much either, packing its dual PPC and C3 master array. Lainie's _Mauler_ was the new version rolling off the lines at Luthien Armor Works just two weeks ago. It had lost the XL engine, replaced the AC/2s with rotary autocannon technology taken from the Federated Suns, and was twice as deadly as the original.

They waited at the various exit points of the palace, waiting for the Otomo's attack to begin. The air was thick with tension, and Yoshino imagined the various civilians and personnel packed in the APCs nervously waiting for the ball to drop. The soldiers had it easier because of their training, but he could still feel the doubts creeping up at the back of his mind.

_Would I live to fight another day? What if I get captured? What if I let my comrades down? What should I do when I run out of ammo? When somebody gets into my rear? Who's that waiting over the next hilltop?_

Even though Yoshino was a battle hardened veteran of extensive combat experience, he couldn't keep all those doubts sealed away. He tried to meditate, but the steady chatter of voices over the comms made it difficult.

Then the words they had been anticipating, had been dreading, arrived. "_The Otomo has engaged._"

"Go, go, go!" Descartin yelled. The VTOLs sprang into the air from their bays, while the APCs moved into the city. The mechs followed close behind as a rearguard while in the city. The Maxims flanked the column, going down parallel streets that would also lead them out of the city.

"Omega Five, this is Twitty Two. We detect enemy vehicles in the way!" One of the Sprint pilots reported almost immediately. "About a lance, on Cherry Street!" That placed them right in the column's path.

"Aff. Silver Five, move your vehicles up to the adjacent street and dismount your battlearmor troops." Silver Five was the designation for the Maxim unit CO, and they probably knew what the plan was, because there were a few troopers armed with inferno rounds riding the Maxims. Descartin intended to cook the Black Dragons in flame.

The column did not slow down as the Maxims barreled ahead, while the VTOLs continued to circle around the area well out of range of their enemies, while scanning constantly for more at the same time.

The operation to take out the vehicles in their path went off without a hitch. It was barely twenty seconds before _Tai-sho_ Ryan reported the neutralization of the enemy vehicles.

"They know what we're doing." Yoshino told Descartin. "I don't think we killed them fast enough. They probably got a report off."

"Aff. But there is no point in second guessing at this stage."

They moved quickly but cautiously through the battle ravaged landscape of Imperial City. Once prosperous and nosy streets lined with shops were now quiet asphalt roads clogged by rubble. The Maxims had to detour several times in order to stay on the same general direction. The Sprints hovered overhead, constantly on the move to ensure maximum recon coverage.

They moved out of the city without any problems, but the dull roar of battle, even from several kilometers away, was audible. The loud thumps of artillery pieces send slight shockwaves through the ground, and more than one stray shell had almost hit the column snaking its way through the ruined city.

Like furtive thieves, they crawled across the Kado-Guchi Plains, expecting an assault from the air at any moment. Meanwhile, the chatter of radio from the ongoing battle in the city spoke well of the Coordinator's forward defense strategy. The Black Dragons were shocked by the sudden rush of Otomo into their midst, and they seemed to be falling back even as their other units were closing in on the Otomo.

It was not long before the Kado-Guchi Valley laid ahead of them, and Yoshino tried to suppress a shudder. It was not the classic box canyon valley, being about a kilometer wide, but the slopes were close enough for a well placed ambush anyway.

_But we have no other choice_, Yoshino knew as the lead vehicles moved in. _I hope Descartin's plan works._

"Contact!" Descartin flicked his eyes over to the beeping icon from the Sprints. "This is Twitty One. Zero eight Mikes, approaching fast!"

"Affirmative. Omega move up." Descartin snapped off orders. "Antique units, stand ready. Twitty, check the slopes."

The lead APCs slowed down to let the mechs take the lead, and sure enough, Descartin saw 8 enemy mechs barreling down the valley. Mostly lights, with perhaps three mediums between them.

"Omega, this is Twitty Lead. Lots of Mikes on the northern slope! Also about a battalion of vehicles!"

_That was expected._ Descartin had figured some sort of opposition to be waiting on the slopes. _Because they wanted to have Theodore _run_, and then cut him down before he got to safety. _He would have been really worried if the enemy had crowded the valley itself proper, but their current position gave him a small window of opportunity.

"All units, this is Omega Five. Execute Case Wire." He was not worried, having anticipated such a move from the Black Dragons. _It will be different this time_, he told himself, remembering the events of more than fifteen years ago. _We will break through._

The Maxims sprang into action. They were all fire support versions modified to carry battle armor infantry, but here their LRM racks were the most crucial. Descartin had ordered them to carry loads of special Thunder Augmented rounds, which would prevent the enemy mechs from storming down into the valley. Well, all but the fastest jumpers, which would inevitably be the more vulnerable machines. And the ground vehicles could not jump at all.

_It is never too late to learn new tricks. _Descartin grinned humorlessly as the first of the LRM rounds erupted from the fast moving Maxims, even as the enemy mechs on the hills started to move forward. The Sprint Scouts were spotting for the Maxims, but Descartin was not counting on the LRM rounds to land exactly where they were aimed at. He _wanted _them to scatter, which would pin the enemy mechs on the slopes more effectively than deliberate shots. If they could stop the enemy mechs on the slope in time, the range would be too much for the Black Dragons to shoot at the convoy. If they wanted to get within range, they would have to traverse the minefields. Which was easier said than done.

The two enemy lances in the valley itself came within range. Four by-now ubiquitous _Black Dragons_, a _Raptor_, two _Striders_, and a _Wolf Trap_.

"Fire at will." Descartin ordered his lance, pressing down on his firing studs immediately after sliding his targeting cursor over the _Raptor_.

The particle beam arced right into the middle of the _Raptor_, followed by a cluster salvo from his LBX cannon. The _Raptor_ crashed to the ground in a flurry of flailing limbs, its gyro and engine shot to pieces before it had even fired off a single reply.

Lainie's _Mauler_ had sighted in on a _Strider_, and she was flensing armor off the medium omnimech with her large lasers, followed by several bursts from her RAC/2s. The rapidly firing autocannons spat out hundreds of shells per second, cutting into the _Strider_, which fell to the ground from the punishing fusillade.

Yoshino used his own LBX cannon to smash into a _Black Dragon_, hammering off the armor on the arm with the sword, even as his LRM racks shaved protection from all over the mech.

Ryo hung back, using his PPCs to help out Yoshino, the powerful energy whips flaying the _Black Dragon _relentlessly. It fell to the ground from the punishing assault. But it still hung very much in the fight, raising itself on one arm to fire off its MRMs in a useless gesture of defiance.

The non-battle on the slopes was proceeding as Descartin had hoped. The northern slope was steadily mined with layer after layer of thunder augmented munitions, from both the Maxims and the APC carriers that were within reach. And he still had a few more surprises waiting in store for the mechs on the hills.

"Watch your front!" Lainie shouted in warning.

"Take them down fast!" Descartin went full bore as he moved his _Akuma_ forward, every single weapon except his pulse lasers blazing into the enemy mechs. The wounded _Black Dragon_ on the ground was decapitated by his ER PPC, while his MRM rack and LBX cannon tore fresh holes into another charging _Black Dragon_. His streak launchers sent missile after missile flying unerringly into the _Strider_, setting off an ammunition explosion within the mech and leaving it a shattered carcass standing on the field. The heat slammed into him like a wave, as his indicators climbed into the yellow-red zone.

The others ripped into the _Wolf Trap_ and a third _Black Dragon_, inflicting heavy damage on both. In return, only the _Wolf Trap _was able to connect with anything, its LRMs slamming into Lainie's _Mauler _with little effect. But the _Black Dragons _were getting perilously close.

"Leave the _Wolf Trap_ to me. The rest of you take the remaining _Black Dragons_!" He yelled out, while the lance of Arquebus VTOLs started dropping Arrow IV area saturation rounds into the enemy positions on the hills. Massive explosions shook the hilltops, breaking apart trees and sending up massive gouts of dirt in a thunderous roar.

His ER PPC carved away more armor from the _Wolf Trap_, which began to backpedal after realizing it was severely outgunned by the opposition, spinning around and scooting away at top speed. The _Black Dragons_ kept coming on though.

Yoshino blasted apart one _Black Dragon_, while Lainie and Ryo managed to shoot the legs off the third one, leaving one left to get into close range.

Except that the APCs strung out behind the lance had sighted in with their LRM launchers as well.

More than a hundred missiles tore into the _Black Dragon_, which maintained its footing for only the barest instant before Descartin wiped it off the face of Luthien with a MRM salvo.

"More mikes incoming!" Somebody shouted. Descartin blinked sweat off his eyelids, cursing hard. "How many?" He asked.

"About a company of assaults! There's already 2 full battalions on the hill!" The voice came back, slightly panicked. "Omega, we detect jumpers moving down the hills!"

_Not a problem_, Descartin forced himself to remain calm. But the sheer scale of the enemy force surprised him. It seemed that there was a full reserve regiment of Black Dragons after all, lying in wait for Theodore. Except that this time, they were facing somebody who had spent countless waking hours thinking of how to _beat_ the valley of death.

"Silver, stay on plan. Pull in your designated fire area about 150 meters south. All Eggs, rendezvous at nav point epsilon. Antiques, do not stop firing." The Arquebus units could sustain more than 2 minutes of Arrow IV hell.

The battalion reacted swiftly to his orders. The flare of explosions on the hill spoke of the Arrow IVs dropping right on top of the enemy units, while smaller explosions indicated minefields that were set off by the enemy mechs struggling to go down the slope. Descartin looked up to see a massive _Atlas _crash down the slope, its legs cut off at the knees by walking through extended thunder minefields. The mech's head crashed into the ground, setting off even more bomblets in ground shaking detonations. There was no ejection.

He spun his attention to his radar, where he could see an assault company slowly approaching from four kilometers out from the far end of the valley, using a feed from one of the Sprints. _Stravag._

Yoshino glared at his display screens, the images of the insignia of the enemy mechs burning themselves into his memory. It was a black V, set over a burning fire. _The Band of the Damned. After so long. I don't have to look for them at all. They came right to me._

He pressed a button on his communications console. "Omega Five, I know what we're facing."

"The enemy regiment?"

"They're the Band of the Damned, a bunch of pirates led by Vance Rezak. Remember what I told you about him?" He had told Descartin of his vendetta years ago, and Yoshino had never given up hope of one day exacting his own vengeance on Vance Rezak for the death of his parents.

"And you wish to seek your revenge now," said Descartin slowly.

"I don't need to seek it. They are coming towards us anyway."

"Very well." Descartin's voice held a steely edge. "All units, we are facing the honorless bandits known as the Band of the Damned. They have been the scourge of the Draconis Combine for years. Let us take the opportunity to teach them a lesson. Let them come to us. Silver, continue laying down your thunder minefields. I do not want mechs pressing us on one side while we tackle the assault company. Antique, fire off all your Arrow IVs. I want them dead or crippled at the least."

Yoshino could see the assault company would take about two minutes to get into range, while the medium and light jumpers from the woods have managed to escape the cauldron of the hills by jumping through the minefields. Most of them had taken some damage, however, especially on the legs.

"Aim low, aim low!" Ryo noted as his _Avatar_ flung its PPC bolts at a _Panther_, one shot missing and the other freezing the hip joint on one leg. Sent off balance by the actuator damage, the _Panther_ cartwheeled, only to be picked up by the massed LRM fire of the APCs as the storm of missiles smashed into it, lifting it bodily up into the air for a moment before the _Panther _flopped down like a broken puppet.

Yoshino picked out a _Lynx_, his autocannon firing for all it was worth at the dangerous medium mech, supported by his missile racks. Descartin had the same idea as well, adding his own ER PPC and autocannon to the mix of munitions pummeling the _Lynx_. The _Lynx _shot back at Descartin, and Yoshino stifled a laugh. Didn't they know better by now? Firing at Descartin, unless it was at point blank range, was practically useless!

Lainie added to the _Lynx_'s misery when she unloaded at it with her MRMs. More than 30 missiles struck the _Lynx_ around the head and shoulders, wreathing the mech's upper torso in a garland of blooming flames. They subsided to show a headless mech, which crashed onto the ground moments later.

More mechs were streaming down, and it seemed like one huge shooting gallery to Yoshino as the Maxims, having fired off all their thunder rounds, switched to loads of semi-guided ammunition, with the Sprints swooping in on selected targets to designate with their Target Acquisition Gear, braving the occasional shot by a pirate mech.

The bulk of the enemy fire was focused on Descartin's _Akuma_, and all of it was missing the target as the _Akuma_ moved with a grace that belied its size, crouching and changing the direction of its movement to thwart the enemy fire.

A tone sounded as Yoshino locked onto a _Firestarter_, indicating that the mech had been successfully designated by one of the Sprints. He fired off all his LRMs at the poor _Firestarter_, which was also the recipient of more missiles from Ryo's _Avatar_. The _Firestarter_ managed to shrug off the missile impacts, but smoke bellowed out of its central vents, indicating damage to its engine. Descartin finished it off with a lightning bolt straight through the middle.

"Brace yourselves!" Descartin warned them as a lance of battered mediums managed to break through. They went straight for the _Akuma_, Descartin dropping a _Phoenix Hawk _with his MRMs and a burst of laser fire.

A _Black Dragon_ slashed at the _Akuma_, tearing off a huge chunk of armor off the right flank with the deadly sword. It followed up with a blast of laser shots, boiling away more armor off the _Akuma_. However, Yoshino was not worried. The _Akuma_ was an assault mech, and more than capable of taking whatever the _Black Dragon_ could dish out.

The _Black Dragon_ was vaporized the next moment as Descartin turned his guns on it, while the other two mechs, a _Komodo_ and a _Wolverine_, were left in twisted heaps from the combined firepower of a company of APCs and the other three Omega mechs. There were no more mechs charging down the hills, and the remaining mechs on the hills were apparently pulling back after sustaining serious damage from the Arquebus.

"Swing back along the valley to receive the assault company," Descartin said. "I am taking the lead. Silver, inverted V formation. Antiques, if you have any missiles left, it is time to use them."

"Omega Five, Twitty Three. At least zero six Foxtrots approaching!"

_Looks like they've finally unleashed their fighters._ Yoshino gritted his teeth. _This is going to be tricky._ He saw a beeping signal light up, indicating that Descartin had finally called in their own air support to cover them.

"Thinking of running away, Kurita?" A haughty voice said over the open frequency. "That was a nice trick with the thunder augmented rounds, but my fighters are on the way. It's been fun, but it looks like you have to die now."

"This is _Tai-i_ Ryo Saeba of the Legions of Vega. Go fuck yourself!" Ryo shot back. Yoshino could very well imagine his friend in the _Avatar_ giving the enemy pilot who had spoken the middle finger.

The enemy pilot laughed, and Yoshino got a feeling that this was no ordinary mechwarrior. "Go fuck myself?" The unknown pilot asked. "Why should I when the Combine had done enough of that to me and my men in the past?" He literally hissed out his next words. "I am Vance Rezak, and I have come to claim my vengeance."

_Vance Rezak! _Yoshino felt a wave of hate erupting from somewhere in his belly. _At last, I can have my revenge!_

"Then stop jawing, and let us fight, villain." Yoshino growled. The enemy assault company could be seen now, and while one part of him noted with dread the enemy tonnage facing them, another part was rejoicing that the time to avenge his parents had come. This moment was what he had been living for all these years!

Yet another part, the logical part of his brain, noted with interest that if he had not followed Descartin Winters, this would not have occurred. Destiny, perhaps?

A _Naginata_ stomped into view, to be set upon almost immediately by the Arquebus, who had timed their fire in such a way that the Arrow IV rounds arrived right on time. Three of them scattered, but one hit right on top of the _Naginata_, staggering the heavy command assault.

A frightening parade of designs appeared next. A _Battlemaster_, a _Sunder_, and a _Cerberus_. Followed by two _Crocketts_, a _Highlander_, and two _Thugs_. A _Cyclops_ marched close behind, together with a _Gunslinger_ and an _O-Bakemono_.

Yoshino swallowed dryly at the sight of so much hardware in their way, even as sirens warned of the fighters sweeping down on a strafing run.

"All units, scatter! Lance Omega, keep the fighters away from the APCs at all costs!" Descartin's voice, for the first time, held traces of fear. Yoshino understood it was not for himself, but for the charges under their care.

"Run, run, run! But you'll just die tired!" Rezak taunted while the fighters burst through the heavy cloud cover above the valley. Four _Shilones_ and two _Slayers_ angled their way down.

"On five!" Descartin called out. "Mark! Four, three, two," the fighters approached at breakneck speeds, and Yoshino toggled his LBX cannon over to cluster ammunition for a better chance at hitting, "One!"

The ground in front of them burst from a cascading wall of ruby light from the fighters, the Maxims throwing up a wall of LRMs at the same time. The Arquebus had scattered, being highly vulnerable to fighter attacks. The mechs of Lance Omega had coordinated a crossfire, relying on Ryo's C3 computer to get them the best odds possible.

Descartin managed to down a _Slayer_ all by himself, his ER PPC clipping one wing just before his LBX cannon hit the same spot, followed by the majority of his MRMs. The _Slayer_ veered off to crash into the plains beyond the valley, before it was able to reach the convoy and its protectors.

Yoshino fought with his control sticks as his _Nobori-Nin_ was bathed in energy beams and autocannon fire, shaving away almost twenty percent of his armor protection. A Maxim behind him exploded under the hideous barrage.

"Frackencrack!" Yoshino cursed as he saw that the _Shilone_ he had fired upon still flying, albeit heavily damaged, trailing smoke as it pitched up and away from the battlefield.

The fighter run had inflicted severe damage on all their mechs, and two Maxims were down, while two more were crippled. The APCs had been spared the brunt of the strafing attack, but Yoshino wasn't sure their luck was going to hold for long. The only consolation was that the enemy fighters did not carry external bomb racks.

Descartin's _Akuma_ was suddenly enveloped in two massive explosions, courtesy of the Arrow IVs from the _O-Bakemono_. Armor sloughed off the _Akuma_ in piles of broken armor plates. The rest of the enemy assault company tried to take advantage of the weakened assault mech, but their shots, not surprisingly, missed.

However, Yoshino realized that the _O-Bakemono_ was the biggest threat on the field, even more so than the _Cerberus_ and _Gunslinger_, both headhunter mechs with dual gauss rifles. Descartin knew it as well.

"All units, take the _O-Bakemono_!" Descartin shouted. Its Arrow IVs were the only weapons capable of hitting the APCs at virtually any range, and the vehicles were now quite clearly in the sights of the artillery design in the clear terrain valley. If it decided to stop going for the _Akuma_, and aimed for the APCs instead…

The _O-Bakemono_ staggered as Descartin hit back hard with his weapons, with the rest of Lance Omega followed up with autocannons, more particle beams, and missiles. Several MRMs from Lainie's _Mauler_ went into the _O-Bakemono_'s new ventilation, and the assault mech shuddered as one of the missiles found an ammunition bay. The _O-Bakemono_ began to shake faster and faster from the explosions wrecking it from the inside out, to be eventually flung onto the ground as the CASE vented the ammunition out from one side. Yoshino sighed in relief.

"Which mech do you think Rezak is in?" Asked Lainie. "If we can take him down, they'll probably let us through."

"The _Naginata_ is too obvious a choice. I'd say the _Cyclops_." Ryo answered. Sirens began blaring again, warning of the fighters returning for another run.

Only to be denied their prey as a company of _Tatsu_ omnifighters bore in from the city, forcing them into a furious dogfight.

_Which leaves us with the mechs in front of us_, Yoshino thought._ Eleven of them, against four mechs, and a full battalion of vehicles. All too easy._

Descartin apparently agreed with Ryo because his next orders were, "Take the _Cyclops_!" His battered Akuma started moving forward, in order to provide C3 telemetry for the others.

The _Cyclops_ design was well known in the Inner Sphere for being a superior command vehicle, equipped with state of the art communications and coordination gear. Yoshino had heard rumors of a special variant mounting two C3 masters, but those were just rumors. In any case, the Cyclops would be going down.

"Not bad, for a bunch of cowards running away from Luthien!" Rezak crowed out.

_You won't be singing that tune for much longer_, Yoshino clenched his fists on his control sticks as Lance Omega used the information from Descartin's charging _Akuma_ to savage their chosen target.

Again, Descartin managed to evade most of the enemy fire, while the thinly armored _Cyclops_ went down with one entire flank shot off, the attached arm and leg both blown away. But Rezak continued to taunt them. "Nice guess, trying to take me down! But too bad, you guessed wrong! And I'm going to make you pay for that."

"He is getting on my nerves," Descartin snarled. "Forget about picking him out. Just take them down, one by one. The _Gunslinger_ now."

It was turning into a brutal slugging match with Descartin taking point while the rest of the lance hung behind. The Damned were trying their best to make Descartin pay for his audacity, but he was not cooperating.

"Volley at a hundred paces!" Ryo shouted out inexplicably. And indeed, the Damned were getting _really_ close to Descartin's lone _Akuma_.

The _Gunslinger_ was one of the most heavily armored mechs in existence, but it was of no consequence as they sheared through its side torso, dumping it on the ground and proving the vulnerability of XL engined designs. As it went down, it managed to connect with a gauss slug on the _Akuma_, and Yoshino felt a wave of panic as the mech staggered. _Descartin's been taking a lot of hits…_

The flash of lasers at his _Nobori-Nin_ told him he wasn't exempt from their fire either, but then again, he was further away. A large laser boiled off armor on his legs, which the _Nobori-Nin _took easily.

"Stand back!" Descartin yelled.

"No can do. You're taking too much fire," Lainie said as her _Mauler_ walked up, to provide another target for the Damned to shoot at.

"_Cerberus_." Descartin said in reply.

For the next minute, Yoshino could recall little as the two sides pounded away at each other. It was with almost total disinterest that he observed the loss of the left arm of his mech, because he was so intent on destroying the next target.

Throughout the entire exchange, Rezak would cut in with some snide comment, obviously trying to put them off their stride, but Descartin would invariably refocus them by calling out the next mech to go down. His _Akuma_ was savaged beyond belief, as the elite Band pilots were able to connect by the sheer number of shots they threw at him. The rest of the lance was not better off by much, but every shot that came their way also meant that there was less shooting at the APCs, and that went doubly as important for ammunition based weapons.

Descartin's Akuma lost an entire torso to enemy fire, reducing its firepower by half. By that time, however, the result of the battle was almost certain. Most of the enemy mechs had withdrawn or destroyed, leaving only three mechs left. The _Battlemaster_, _Highlander_, and a _Thug_.

"It seems I'll just have to let you go another day," Rezak cursed them. Then the _Battlemaster_ started moving back as the words came over the comms, and Yoshino finally realized which mech Rezak was in. Never mind the other two mechs which were turning to follow it away.

"I'm going for the _Battlemaster_!" Yoshino informed his lancemates, his _Nobori-Nin_ already jumping towards the backs of the three mechs. He fired his autocannon, but it barely scratched the rear of the _Battlemaster_, which had been untouched so far.

"Who is this annoying imprudence?" Rezak asked. "I will enjoy tearing you apart without your lancemates." The _Battlemaster_ spun around with deceptive ease for its size, and Yoshino jumped off to one side as it slashed at him with its ER PPC.

"I am Yoshino Ihara, and I have come to claim my vengeance." 

"So I killed somebody close to you, eh?" Rezak laughed. "Not exactly the first time it happened. I killed everybody else who tried! Come on then if you think you're any different!"

Narrowing his eyes, Yoshino ignored the insistent beeping tone on his console that indicated a transmission from Descartin. He had turned the lance frequency channel off the moment he had gone for Rezak, because he knew the others would not approve of his going it alone.

Yoshino's _Nobori-Nin _shuddered from several laser hits, but he fired back with his own lasers, which stabbed into armor over the _Battlemaster_'s heart. Rezak was hardly fazed, and replied with a spread of SRMs, which sent Yoshino's ears ringing with their stinging impacts.

Somehow, Descartin managed to get to the open channel. "Yoshino, break off!"

His ears burned as he shook his head inside the cockpit. "Neg. I have waited too long for this."

"You cannot beat him." Descartin pointed out calmly. "All of our mechs are too badly damaged to chase him down, and there is still the matter of our duty."

_Duty? To the Nine Hells with duty! _There was the chance to avenge his parents right here right now! A red haze started to bleed into his vision, as he continued to trade shots with the _Battlemaster_, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the hits he was taking, and the words coming from his comrades.

"Yoshino! _Ninjo _and _giri_, dammit!" Ryo shouted, "Have you forgotten everything _sensei_ Tomasson taught us? Always _giri_ first. Always!"

The status light for his autocannon turned red as Rezak's lasers washed over his mech again. The LRM rack lights blinked yellow, indicating their lack of ammo. "Argh!" Yoshino raged as he felt doubt enter his mind. _What can I do with just my lasers?_

"Pull back." Descartin said again. "There will be another time, another day for your vengeance. Duty before all else. Pull back _now_."

Yoshino felt like wrenching his joysticks out of their sockets as he wrestled within himself for control.

"Hahaha!" Rezak taunted him. "Listen to your friends, samurai! Flee like the dog you are away from this world! Follow Teddy Kurita as he is shamed forever for abandoning the Black Pearl."

Yoshino did not know why, but those words managed to punch through his anger, quenching the fury that threatened to overwhelm him. He murmured, "If you only knew…"

He let the _Battlemaster_ go, jumping away back to the convoy while avoiding another PPC bolt. _Another time, another day, another place, Rezak. I will have my revenge. One day._

"Good call, Yoshino, good call." Descartin said, almost quietly. "Let us leave this place as soon as possible. The dropships await."

Coordinator Theodore Kurita ignored the blood flowing down one side of his head as he surveyed the damage wrought around his _Masakari_.

He could feel the omnimech dying under him, the excess heat and radiation from the shattered engine behind him bleeding into the cockpit, killing him as surely as a bullet or a laser beam. The leg actuators were almost all shot away, and his HUD flickered with static as he tried to reorganize what was left of the Otomo, which wasn't much.

There was nothing left now except one final stand, one final show of defiance to show the determination of the Dragon against all foes, internal or external.

The buildings in the combat operations area had all been hammered flat, the rubble spilling out onto the streets to form an treacherous, shaky footing for any mech that would walk into the area.

The near decimated company of Otomo remaining to him formed up, ready to fulfill their sworn duty. He saw two battalions of Black Dragon rebels inching forward cautiously, shaken by the destruction of so many of their machines in the past two hours of heavy fighting.

Theodore charged the pulse laser capacitors on his mech's right arm, the left torso having been destroyed by countless attacks. He had acquitted himself well, he felt, even for a Kurita, taking out more than a company of Black Dragon mechs personally.

He was not afraid of death. For the past few days, he had felt it more of a release than anything else. He had lost so much these past few years, and he yearned for the chance for peace. The peace of death.

But before he could die, he still had a few last things to do. He had to make sure Hohiro was as prepared as possible to succeed him, which was why he had ordered Descartin Winters to take young Kitsune and as much data as they could transport from the Imperial archives away from Luthien. It was the only thing left he could do for his son.

The thought of Kitsune reminded him of his daughter Omi, and Theodore felt tears in his eyes as she in turn reminded him of his beloved Tomoe, dead due to treachery and manipulation. For years he had dreamed of a time when he could hand over the reigns of the realm over to their children, and the two of them could wander the Inner Sphere and sample the many delights out there which they had never had a chance to see or taste while trapped by their roles within the Combine.

_How had it come to this? _He wanted nothing more than for the Combine to be strong, its people proud, its planets at peace in an universe gone mad. Not this civil war of citizen against citizen, of cities smashed by warring battlemechs. Not lives ruined by a war that should never have happened.

"Looks like this is our very last stand, Coordinator," Ninyu-Kerai Indrahar coughed hard as his Kage battle suit limped over several heaps of concrete slabs. Theodore noted the burnt wings, and the melted armor over his friend's suit.

"_Hai_, Ninyu-_kun_. It has been an honor."

"Maybe it is the wrong time for this, but I would like to make one thing clear just before we pass into the next life."

"And that is?"

"Remember when we were on Marduk, trying to make something out of our careers and the Legion of Vega? Times were so simple then. You watched my back, and I watched yours."

"I never asked you what changed between us, but that is what you are hinting at, isn't it?"

"I could not help it. The demands of my position meant that I had to keep at a distance from all others. The creed of the ISF never placed the good of the Coordinator above the good of the Combine, and I had to maintain the tradition."

"I understand." Theodore sighed wistfully. "Appearances and deception. How strange that we should end up like this at the very end. I only hope you have your affairs well ordered."

"Indeed they are. The next Director shall be Omi Dashani, with Takura Migaki as her second in command. Migaki will not like it, but he will follow his duty."

Theodore closed his eyes for a while. Then he opened them, and spoke in a clear voice.

"_Snow Dragon stands tall_

_In a land of broken swords_

_Falling into night."_

A light blinked on his console, and Theodore smiled in satisfaction as he heard the words from the techs remaining in the Imperial Palace. "_Tono_, Star Captain Winters reports mission accomplished, that they have lifted off."

The bright flare of dropship drives in the darkening sky told him all he needed to know. Of course, there was the chance that the Black Dragons would be able to intercept and destroy the dropships, but he did not think it likely, since they did not have any warships around. And the _Tatsu_ fighter escort should be enough to handle any fighters that tried to take them.

He wondered if the Black Dragons have realized that he was leading this last stand, but in the end, it did not really matter. He was here, and they were there, and that was all they needed.

As the Black Dragons came into range, Theodore began to laugh as he began firing at a _Ninja-To_. It was the laughter of a strong samurai, of a warrior confident and proud. He saw Ninyu's Kage suit tearing into the knee joint of an _Atlas_ before being vaporized by a particle beam that ended up tearing through the joint as well. The enemy mechs surrounded his _Masakari_, and Theodore barely felt nor heard the wail of sirens and alarms in his cockpit as he continued laughing, blowing away one enemy mech after another with unerring accuracy.

_Tomoe, Omi, wait for me just a little longer!_

Well, that's it for this chapter. It was not easy to write. Not easy at all. There was the problem of the blade presentation, the problems of having just the right atmosphere, the feel of solemnity etc. And I was really busy these past two weeks supervising and refereeing CBT games. And several of the tactics I saw were used here, especially the thunder aug/arty trick. Put it with a few LPL/TC boats, and laugh at anything that tries to get past!

In fact, I used it for a training mission for a few newbies, and they came away with the healthy fear of the tactic. Here's the link where I hammered them senseless.

Problems that I thought of:

Band of the Damned tactics. According to the FM, they specialized in using their vehicle and mech assets to pull enemy units apart before setting upon them with one glorious charge. But they didn't do so here, because of the thunder aug LRM trick Descartin used.

Why didn't they just bottle up the valley? They couldn't and convince Teddy that there was a clear path at the same time. So they used the method of waiting in ambush on one slope, just like in the Battle of Luthien, to rush down and surround the convoy in the valley without any way out. But Descartin already knew the counter(he spent quite a few sleepless nights thinking of it), and more importantly, he had the tools to carry it out effectively.

As for the dropships not being bothered by the enemy, let's just say the Band didn't want to deplete their strength by trying to take 2 prepared Unions and an Overlord. It's _very_ painful.

Why didn't Teddy just thunder aug the entire area around the Imperial Palace? Well, as the great demon Murphy says, "Make it too tough for the enemy to get in, and you won't be able to get out."

Well, I _hope_ Teddy's death scene was cool… Don't ask me about the haiku. I just slapped some words together, just like this entire story. Still, the phrase 'In a land of broken swords' sounds rather poignant, eh?

**Chu-i Odie**: A Drac fan eh? Hope this chapter didn't tick you off too much. Which unit were you from? I hope not the Alshain Avengers!

**Warden**: The Falklands wasn't exactly a clusterfuck, but Market Garden certainly was. But hey, nobody's perfect!

**Sphinx**: I'm trying _not_ to imitate Clancy or Bond in their style! And political plotting is, I'm really beginning to suspect, the most difficult part of Btech to master. Oh well, gotta pray more to the toaster then!

**Tangmeister**: Good to hear that! Still, hope you like the action here!

**Marwynn**: Hey, good work for your own fiction! And thanks for the stats of your unit. Hmmm… how to use them…

**Fblue**: I don't bring the CBT universe alive. The fans do. (wink)

**Aeain**: Already writing as fast as I can. Please, spare me!!! (kneels and begs for mercy)

**Eddy_S**: Nice perspective. I actually hadn't thought of that! Hmmm… clanner girl gets to loose her tensions by beating up on the bad guys. Not a bad idea, quiaff? But it's not nearly so easy…

**Ayce_Shade**: Aliens are a looooong way off. Well, I wouldn't want to spoil too much! Hope the links I've sent you work!

**Valefore**: Enough action here? As for personal time, well, I'm not a very good emotive writer. Gotta work on that.

**GiJoe**: Yo Joe! This is an alternate universe fic, splitting off somewhere around 3064, but only really diverging after the FC Civil War. Needless to say, I am not thrilled by MW:DA, though I am willing to accept any converts from MW:DA to CBT!

**Duo**: Uhhh… Fafnirs and Blood Asps are singularly susceptible to the thunder aug/arty tactic. I know many good players who don't even flinch at the idea of facing Fafnirs or Blood Asps anymore. Kinda tells you what I have to go up against every time I'm playing the oppo for their missions!

The Arquebus stats. For once, a vehicle! And a very cheap one at that this time!

Type/Model:    Arquebus Base

Tech:          Inner Sphere / 3070

Config:        V.T.O.L. Omni

Rules:         Level 2, Standard design

Mass:          30 tons

Power Plant:   10 ConLee I.C.E.

Cruise Speed:  54.0 km/h

Maximum Speed: 86.4 km/h

Armor Type:    ProtecTech 3F Ferro-Fibrous

Armament:      None

Manufacturer:  Scarborough Manufacturers

  Location:    Al Na'ir

Communications System:  Scarborough Talky-2

Targeting & Tracking System:  Scarborough Track

**Overview:**

In the latter half of 3066, Scarborough Manufacturers came up with a winning idea. How about a cheap VTOL that could mount artillery?  
They tabled the proposal to the DCMS High Command, which was intrigued by the concept. Then Hohiro Kurita suggested making the VTOL, with its massive pod space, an OmniVTOL. This was to be the clinching point for Scarborough, which wasted no time incorporating the Heir Designate's suggestion.  
A year later, the first Arquebus were deployed to the clan front.

**Capabilities:**

The Arquebus is slow for a VTOL, but frontline combat is not its true forte. Tacticians envisioned the Arquebus as a mobile long range fire support platform, capable of softening up targets from afar with barrages of Arrow IV missiles or LRMs.  
With a staggering 18 tons of pod space, the Arquebus potentially outguns even some medium mechs, and most light mechs.  
The armor protection is also excellent for its class, being able to withstand clan ER PPC shots on its front and sides.  
The various configurations of the Arquebus are mostly meant for stand off engagements, since bringing the Arquebus in close is to sign a death warrant for the crew.

**Deployment**

Arquebus have been sent to most DCMS and Comstar units on the clan front. Mostly deployed to cavalry regiments, their capabilities are slowly being revealed engagement by engagement, as their various configurations combined with the new LRM, AC, and Arrow IV munitions are offering Inner Sphere commanders more tactical options than ever before.

--------------------------------------------------------

Type/Model:    Arquebus Base

Mass:          30 tons

Equipment:                                 Items    Mass

Int. Struct.:  15 pts Standard               0      3.00

Engine:        10 I.C.E.                     0      1.00

    Cruise MP:   5

     Flank MP:   8

Heat Sinks:      0 Single                    0       .00

Cockpit & Controls:                          0      1.50

Crew: 2 Members                              0       .00

Rotor Equipment:  Main/Tail Rotors           0      3.00

Armor Factor:   63 pts Ferro-Fibrous         2      3.50

                          Internal    Armor

                          Structure   Value

   Front:                     3         21 

   Left / Right Sides:        3      15/15 

   Rear:                      3         10 

   Rotor:                     3          2 

Weapons and Equipment    Loc  Heat  Ammo   Items    Mass

--------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------

TOTALS:                           0          2     12.00

Items & Tons Left:                           9     18.00

Calculated Factors:

Total Cost:        600,000 C-Bills

Battle Value:      39

Cost per BV:       15,384.62

Weapon Value:      0 / 0 (Ratio = .00 / .00)

Damage Factors:    SRDmg = 0;  MRDmg = 0;  LRDmg = 0

BattleForce2:      MP: 5V,  Armor/Structure: 0 / 3

                   Damage PB/M/L: -/-/-,  Overheat: 0

                   Class: VA;  Point Value: 0

                   Specials: omni

**Primary config**

Weapons and Equipment    Loc  Heat  Ammo   Items    Mass

--------------------------------------------------------

1 Arrow IV System        Front    0   15     2     18.00

--------------------------------------------------------

TOTALS:                           0          4     30.00

Items & Tons Left:                           7       .00

Calculated Factors:

Total Cost:        1,800,000 C-Bills

Battle Value:      537

Cost per BV:       3,351.96

Weapon Value:      184 / 184 (Ratio = .34 / .34)

Damage Factors:    SRDmg = 12;  MRDmg = 12;  LRDmg = 12

BattleForce2:      MP: 5V,  Armor/Structure: 0 / 3

                   Damage PB/M/L: 1/2/2,  Overheat: 0

                   Class: VA;  Point Value: 5

                   Specials: omni, artA

**Alpha config**

Weapons and Equipment    Loc  Heat  Ammo   Items    Mass

--------------------------------------------------------

2 LRM 15s                Front    0   32     3     18.00

--------------------------------------------------------

TOTALS:                           0          5     30.00

Items & Tons Left:                           6       .00

Calculated Factors:

Total Cost:        1,775,000 C-Bills

Battle Value:      869

Cost per BV:       2,042.58

Weapon Value:      197 / 197 (Ratio = .23 / .23)

Damage Factors:    SRDmg = 11;  MRDmg = 14;  LRDmg = 8

BattleForce2:      MP: 5V,  Armor/Structure: 0 / 3

                   Damage PB/M/L: 1/2/2,  Overheat: 0

                   Class: VA;  Point Value: 9

                   Specials: omni, if

**Beta config**

Weapons and Equipment    Loc  Heat  Ammo   Items    Mass

--------------------------------------------------------

2 MRM 20s                Front    0   24     3     16.00

1 SRM 2                  Front    0   50     2      2.00

--------------------------------------------------------

TOTALS:                           0          7     30.00

Items & Tons Left:                           4       .00

Calculated Factors:

Total Cost:        1,342,500 C-Bills

Battle Value:      713

Cost per BV:       1,882.89

Weapon Value:      206 / 206 (Ratio = .29 / .29)

Damage Factors:    SRDmg = 20;  MRDmg = 8;  LRDmg = 1

BattleForce2:      MP: 5V,  Armor/Structure: 0 / 3

                   Damage PB/M/L: 3/3/-,  Overheat: 0

                   Class: VA;  Point Value: 7

                   Specials: omni

**Gamma config**

Weapons and Equipment    Loc  Heat  Ammo   Items    Mass

--------------------------------------------------------

1 Autocannon/10          Front    0   30     2     15.00

1 SRM 4                  Front    0   25     2      3.00

--------------------------------------------------------

TOTALS:                           0          6     30.00

Items & Tons Left:                           5       .00

Calculated Factors:

Total Cost:        1,362,500 C-Bills

Battle Value:      559

Cost per BV:       2,437.39

Weapon Value:      138 / 138 (Ratio = .25 / .25)

Damage Factors:    SRDmg = 13;  MRDmg = 6;  LRDmg = 1

BattleForce2:      MP: 5V,  Armor/Structure: 0 / 3

                   Damage PB/M/L: 2/2/-,  Overheat: 0

                   Class: VA;  Point Value: 6

                   Specials: omni

Yeah, yeah, it's cheesy as all hell. Sue me.

Next chapter brings us to the long awaited clusterfuck in the Taurian Concordat. A long kiss goodnight indeed…


	12. Calderon

_If there are two or more ways to do something, and one of those ways can result in a catastrophe, then someone will do it._

-Capt. Edward A. Murphy

_Anything that can go wrong will go wrong._

-Finagle's Law of Dynamic Negatives

_Murphy is always ready to lend you a hand._

-Popular Periphery refrain

_Zenith Point, Landsmark,_

_Taurian Concordat, Periphery,_

_10th September 3068_

The pirate crew on board the _Liu Lang Zhe_ were used to just sitting around and playing cards while waiting for their planet-bound comrades to bleed and die for their booty. After all, it was a pirate point, too far to reach with fighters, and even combat dropships from the planet would take days to arrive, giving them a comfortable sense of security. So it was understandable that their reactions were less than lightning fast when the infra-red sensors fed a warning into the system, triggering the sirens on the ship.

The clean-shaven jumpship captain, not even thirty years old, almost jumped out of his chair, a rare oak chair they had taken from their disastrous raid on Muridox when the sirens started blaring, shaking them out of their accustomed complacency.

They were under attack. Merchants rarely use pirate points, and that left only military units, especially in a shithole system like Landsmark. Captain Pete Montose knew the score, and he didn't like it. Incoming jumpships were sure to have dropships, and most dropships mounted sizable arsenals that could blow away the _Liu Lang Zhe_ easily.

With all their dropships deployed to Landsmark, there wasn't much they could muster in their own defense. Two PPCs mounted on the hull of the _Invader_ class jumpship was all they had, and Montose, an experienced buccaneer despite his youth, knew the odds immediately. Nope, there was no way they were going to fight off the incoming enemy.

Hell, even a _mech_ in space could blow them away now. 

"Furl the sails, and get the fuck outta here!" Montose shouted as his crew sprang into action, driven by fear. Fear of the Taurian Concordat, for though the realm was rich pickings, every pirate knew the fate of those who failed to get away. And it was entirely likely that the incoming ship belonged to the Concordat.

Suffice to say, dying was the preferable option.

Pirates were flying around the bridge in micro-gravity, more often than not colliding with one another and eliciting more than a few muttered expletives as they sought to get the jumpship ready for combat. The bridge went to emergency power, the lights turning red as they sought to gather every last quanta of energy for powering their jump to safety.

"Glick! Start the calcs for jump!" Montose continued yelling. Better to jump out if possible, though he knew that there was no way they could furl the sails, stow it in the jumpship locker, and activate the field drive in time. But better that than sitting in place. "I want the PPCs ready for action!"

As pirates, they knew the value of keeping their weapons sharp, or in this case, operational, but against whatever might be coming in? And with only _two_ measly PPCs?

_W_hen the nearby space flashed with the entry of another _Invader_, loaded down with dropships, Montose could only think, _we are so dead._

Then he saw on the radar the telltale sign of small spherical shapes being launched from the enemy ship. It was obvious what those were. He turned away from the screen. "All hands! Prepare to repel boarders!"

Subaltern Stephen Carr of the Taurian Marines narrowed his eyes as he stared at the tactical screen on the HUD of his Troll battlesuit. The pirate jumpship was in the process of packing up, but that'll likely still take a few more minutes before it was ready to jump out.

More than enough time for his specially trained boarding unit to capture the _Invader _jumpship, in the very first action of its type in the Concordat. He waited impatiently for the jumpship captain to clear his men for launch. As much as he hated to admit it, he didn't like being strapped in the rigid confines of the battle taxi. He felt too much like a sitting duck, even though the vehicle was capable of tearing through space at incredible speeds. 

"Ping Pong, you are clear for launch," said the captain of the _Raging Bull_, much to Carr's relief, even if he didn't like the designation, since they remind him too much of what could happen to the taxis. Moments later, his four battle taxis, each loaded down with a squad of the latest pride of the Taurian military, the Troll space combat battlesuit, burst from the _Bull_'s small craft bays, streaking towards the pirate jumpship, which they had identified as the _Liu Lang Zhe_, using data from the Capellan Confederation's Maskirovka when the _Shen Se Tian_ had attacked some time back.

Without any dropships or fighters to defend it, the pirate ship was a ripe fruit hanging in space, just waiting to be plucked. Still, Carr swallowed the slight feeling of nausea rising from his belly. Getting around in a ping pong ball was never fun, not even for somebody who had been brought up in space.

"Taking some fire now, sir." The taxi pilot commented laconically, as if he was just taking a walk in the park. Carr rolled his eyes inside his suit's helmet. His time in space had shown him that all space pilots, be they fighter jocks or shuttle drivers, were intent on the millennia old tradition of 'big, brass ones'.

The taxi suddenly shook violently, and Carr heard the pilot again. "Uh, we're taking some flak. Nothing serious." Carr groaned. _Yeah right._ The pilot could try to fake it, but the apprehension in his voice still bled through. Then the taxi started accelerating haphazardly, throwing off the aim of the enemy by taking an erratic flight path, which also served to increase Carr's nausea.

After swallowing hard, and giving a direct order to his stomach to remain calm, Carr opened a channel to his troopers. "Okay boys, buckle up tight. We'll be going in soon, so stay sharp and on the bounce."

He switched over to the pilot, "How's things?"

There was a grunt, "Still taking fire, but we're matching velocities now. Gimme another few seconds."

Carr checked his tactical screen, and sure enough, all four taxis were lining up alongside the almost stationary jumpship, ready to deploy their hooks.

"Just a little more…" The pilot said, and a slight shudder signaled the grappling hooks being fired. Another violent jerk killed the taxi's velocity, and the pulleys on the hooks started pulling the taxi towards the jumpship's hull, where it would stick on like a bloated leech. There was a not-so-gentle bounce as the taxi encountered the jumpship's hull, where a sealed polymer suspension would seal the airlock and enable the marines to gain direct access to the hull.

From that point, the battlesuits had one of two options. They could use their cutting torches to cut their way past the hull into the jumpship through the airlock, or make their way on the ship's hull itself through the taxi's other doors and make separate entry points, or even seek out docking points and airlocks on the jumpships to enter it.

But SOP for boarding actions, especially for battlesuits, mandated entering in force and concentrating their firepower, preferably towards the directions of the bridge and engineering. It's not as if there's much that could stop them, unless the defending forces had battlearmor of their own.

"Move, move, move!" Carr yelled out as the restraining alloy straps over his monstrous looking Troll battlesuit retracted. He led the way to the airlock, where a heavy cutting laser was mounted specially for these situations. It had been one of his better ideas, and he found it strange that few others had thought of it.

While the outer airlock doors retracted with a hiss to reveal the gleaming hull of the jumpship, a trooper quickly handled the laser, and started it up, the tightly focused emerald beam slicing into the hull. The trooper moved the beam around steadily, having trained many times for such an action, which would allow him to cut a Troll sized hole in just under a minute.

Then the laser suddenly fizzled out, after having cut two lines of a rough rectangle. The trooper squeezed the trigger several times, but there was only one final whimpering burst from the nozzle that seemingly died out from its own embarrassment.

Carr stared incredulously at the laser, then at the trooper, who held up his hands as if to say, "Not my fault!"

_Time for bitching later_. Carr waved his right hand forward, and two troopers moved forward to use their cutting torches, from both sides of the incomplete bottom cut. It won't be as fast as the laser mount, and they won't be able to cut a clean hole, but at the very least they could get by with cutting three sides and then using their battlesuit enhanced strength to peel away the cut metal.

Later on they would find out that the sudden maneuvering of the taxi shook loose part of the laser cooling mechanism, which was why the laser melted down. After all, this was the first time the cutting laser was in action. They had _not_ put the laser through the proper series of tests in their rush to get it operational. Something that would be fixed later on. But at least the Troll _had _gone through the most stringent testing, especially in real combat trials.

From his feed from the other squads, he could see them his sergeants reporting in of trouble with their boarding lasers as well, in the end resorting to their cutting torches to get in.

"Stand ready," Carr warned as he raised his support laser, prepared to blast any enemy crew just waiting behind the hull when they would open the breach.

One trooper used the basic manipulator hands on his suit to peel back the hull, while another trooper quickly rushed through, and then taking up a covering position to the left of the corridor in which they fund themselves. Carr recognized it immediately as one that would lead to the bridge. The taxi pilot had done a very good job of identifying a location near an important access corridor.

Carr was next to fly through the breach, covering the other side of the corridor, his HUD side displays in IR and audio mode to scan for incoming enemies. The suit's ECM systems were fully engaged, which would mess up any enemy attempt at coordinating a defense.

Hawkings' toys were good stuff.

His remaining two troopers brought up the rear, and that was when the first defenders came in.

They were ready for the pirates, having picked up their approach with their audio sensors. After all, it didn't take much effort to hear the holler and yells of pirates scurrying to their ship's defense, even with all the noise the battlesuits made. Stealth was one thing heavy battelsuits are _not_ known for, even in micro-G.

Carr let it rip with his weapons, his right arm SMG firing off specially designed lead alloy bullets that could rip big gaping holes in flesh targets but malleable enough to splatter their kinetic energy over a metal surface when they hit instead of punching their way through the metal like most other slug throwers and creating all sorts of problems for the combatants.

One of his troopers unleashed his shoulder mounted support laser down the corridor, an angry glaring beam capable of busting mech armor which went straight through to the far end of the passageway, splattering itself against the thick shielded door leading to the bridge. The pirates flinched from the blast, cowering behind the cover of the nooks and crannies along the dark metallic spaces of the jumpship interior.

Carr didn't need to speak to his troops, his well-drilled squad leapfrogging forward, using their weapons to cover for each other while the pirates returned fire, most of it useless. They left more than 5 dead pirates behind in the initial engagement, the rest ducking back frantically. The tempo was abruptly disrupted when a pirate burst out of a concealed rubber bulkhead situated in shadow.

The pirate screamed as he brought down with one hand the humming edge of a vibroaxe down on Trooper Solano's suit, neatly slicing away the shoulder mounted laser. Solano ducked down as the pirate came on, emerging into the dimly lit corridor as a massive bear of a man, his other hand wielding a vibrokatana that he stabbed right at Solano's torso.

The blade sliced neatly past the advanced armor composite of the battlesuit, and Carr could only grit his teeth in rage as he heard a wet gargle from Solano on the comms. He stepped off to one side of Solano's suit, while another trooper went the other direction. No matter what, they're going to get the bastard son of a bitch.

The pirate wasn't stupid though, and he tried to stay behind Solano's suit by using some sort of magnetic clamps on his knees to attaché himself to the suit, but the suit floated around, dead in the corridor without a living brain to direct it.

And that eventually brought the pirate into Carr's gunsights.

The Taurian Marine squeezed his trigger in cold satisfaction, the lead rounds punching numerous holes in the pirate, disgorging copious amounts of blood that formed dark red spherical globules floating in air. The pirate remained stuck to Solano's rapidly cooling corpse.

Carr applied a bit of thrust from his jets  to halt his backwards motion, caused by the recoil from his weapon, and then held up one hand to halt his men. There was something he wanted.

He moved over to the broken body of the pirate, and tugged the vibrokatana out of the limply floating hands.

"Payback time." Carr promised as he lifted the vibrokatana.

Pete Montose glared at the door as though his eyes could melt it down, and then at his bridge crew. Everybody was holding a weapon, and taking cover behind a hastily erected barricade just in front of the bridge doors while hanging on to whatever handholds were available. The smell of fear was all too apparent.

It seemed futile. And stupid besides.

Young Pete could only curse his luck, and that of the _Shen Se Tian_. It just seemed that nothing right was going for them recently. This was a crucial raid, one that was supposed to net them critical supplies and salvage from the Landsmark militia.

Instead, they found themselves fighting not just the militia, but also a small reinforcing unit from a jumpship that just _happened_ to be in system. Sure, that jumpship was taken over yesterday by another pirate band, the Siphon Blades, but the fact remained that its most valuable cargo, the mechs, were probably down on Landsmark slugging it out. Never mind that the Blades were going to contest for the same supplies and salvage.

But now with yet another jumpship, obviously out for their blood, gunning for them, the conclusion was a foregone one.

The door shook, and then simply melted into molten slag from the energy of three mech class lasers. The molten globs of liquid alloy floated around, then were brushed aside by the brusque form of a hulking battlesuit.

Pete didn't need to give the order to fire. The bridge crew unleashed everything they had, but the enemy suit dodged adroitly to one side behind the door. His own shots from his gyrojet rifle simply blasted down into the corridor beyond the door.

Then a flashbang flew into the bridge. Followed by several more, all spinning in different directions.

They went off in successive pops, blinding and deafening the crew. Pete clutched his ears in agony, his sight cut off. He fell backwards, or as much as one could fall backwards in the absence of gravity.

His ears recovered first, but the first things they heard were less than encouraging. People were screaming. The chatter of machine gun fire threatened to burst his eardrums.

Pete's eyesight was restored sufficiently for him to see one of the rampaging battlesuits walk forward with a vibrokatana, which he recognized as belonging to Marco, who was probably dead.

The vibrokatana swiped through the air, decapitating a recovering woman as she tried to fire back with her laser pistol. The look of utter shock and fear on her beheaded face surrounded by floating blood stunned the remaining pirates into inaction, as did the savagery of the Taurian Marine.

"Stop shooting, or we'll kill every last one of you." The gravelly voice of the soldier said. The tone held a certain amount of eagerness for the pirates to refuse, continuing the slaughter.

Pete glanced around the bridge. There was no way any of his people left were going to fight. Even if it meant surrendering to the Concordat.

He stood up from behind the cover of a makeshift barricade slowly, careful not to alarm the twitchy Taurians. He raised his rifle to one side, again very slowly and deliberately, and released it from his hand, assisted with a slight shove. The weapon spun away slowly in space.

"We surrender." Pete said in resignation. That simply wasn't any other choice.

Ricardo Hills, Landsmark 

"Stay sharp as you move," Ian Calderon reminded his makeshift command as it marched towards the likely point of contact with the enemy mech column. "They're moving fast, and SATINT shows contact in the next ten minutes."

A slight bump brought his full attention back to the controls for his _Awesome_. The terrain they were moving on was difficult, to say the least, with some rocks on the ground half the size of a man, making for very treacherous footing. An antiquated militia _Wolverine _behind him stumbled on one of the smaller rocks, but the pilot just managed to keep the medium mech up and moving.

It was a dry, sparsely grassed area, a hard scrabble land, with few trees and bushes scattered in isolated clumps. Brown, mud-caked hills and a few holes in the ground, along with lots of rocks, made up the rest of the would-be battleground. From the maps flashing up on his secondary displays, the entire area for tens of kilometers in all directions was the same depressing sight.

In an untidy bunch behind him were Daniela Mattlov, Benny Greaves, and a disorganized mob of mechs and vehicles that passed for Landsmark's militia. Daniela was trying her best to organize the militia into some semblance of a formation, while Benny kept pace in his _Daishi_. Xie Xun was far ahead in his cutting edge _Men Shen_, scouting for the enemy. There was only so much satellites in orbit could do, and most of them had already been blasted away by the pirate dropships anyway. The CCAF officer had been the one to 'conscript' Ian and his companions into the fight to defend the planet, though Ian was sure it was more about smashing the pirates and saving face for the Confederation than defending the farmers for the Capellan.

Burning into the system at a gut wrenching 2.5 Gs, they had arrived in time to take charge of the situation and the militia, left in disarray from a recent spate of transfers and reassignments due to the disastrous Taurian incursion into the Pleiades Cluster, was more than grateful to let somebody else take overall command. And Ian found himself in the role.

Ian still couldn't figure out why he had allowed Xie to talk him into it.

"Picking up contacts at Bravo 4," Xie informed him. "About two-zero Mikes. I suspect a lance somewhere on our flanks. Watch it."

Ian glanced at his map. "Understood." It was a very basic trick, but still difficult to counter, considering the makeup of his scratch unit.

"Lancer Zero, I am moving up on the far left." Daniela told him. "Maybe Benny should cover the other flank. Between either the two of us, we should be able to slow any flank or rear attack long enough for you to move back."  
Ian nodded reluctantly. "Okay, but watch yourself." Sure, those might be clan omnimechs they were running, but even clan technology could be defeated by superior numbers. There was also a tickle at the back of his mind that did not want Daniela putting herself in danger.

He ignored it.

The militia were a pretty standard bunch, using old technology that while reliable, were easily outperformed on the modern battlefield. They had two _Wasps_, a _Valkyrie_, and a _Javelin_ for their light lance. A _Hatchetman_ and a _Blackjack _made up their other lance. A mixed lance of _Manticores_ and _Pos_ backed up the mechs, along with four old APC carriers loaded with a company of militia infantry. There were more infantry on the way, but most of them were still stuck in transit, since Landsmark lacked even the most rudimentary air transportation assets.

Subaltern Posey, the commander of the militia, was an old retiree who was tasked to lead the local militia simply because there was nobody else available, not because he could do a good job. Ian had nearly blown his top at the small militia base when he discovered that two mechs on the roster, a _Catapult_ and a _Whitworth_, were unusable because the Subaltern did not remember to requisition supplies for their maintenance. Their pilots were now cooling their heels at the base while trying to repair their machines with supplies from the _Leopard_ dropship Ian had arrived in.

_Water under the bridge_, he reminded himself again. No purpose in shouting at Posey when there were more important matters to deal with. Like the _Shen Se Tian_ pirates who had just jumped in, as well as another band that had captured the _Farstrider_ just before they landed on Landsmark.

Ian was a betting man, and he knew at once that it was no coincidence that a pirate jumpship had jumped in near the _Farstrider_. If the _Shen Se Tian_ had not attacked, and if he had not listened to Xie and participated in the defense…

_Gotta stop thinking about it._ Ian shook his head. But he couldn't forget that somebody was probably out to get him, and had hired a pirate band to do so. And the answer for that was seductively simple.

Poor Milton Hawkings had been on the _Farstrider_ when it was captured, and nobody knew what was going on that side. The militia had already sent out a priority one message via the local class C Word of Blake HPG, but everybody knew reinforcements would be long in coming. In other words, they're on their own.

"Enemy sighted at grid Tango Nine. ETA is 5 minutes" Xie's transmission made him turn to his screens. The feed streaming in from Xie's _Men Shen_'s Beagle Active Probe was rapidly updating his own system database of enemy mechs, their likely configurations, and archived combat tactics.

The pirates were heading for Loca, the capital city, probably for food stores in the small city's granaries. There were also a few small factories producing small arms and mech MG ammunition, as well as a sizable stockpile of parts in the militia base. They would be out to get all of that.

The militia had two choices. Engage the enemy in the city and base, and hopefully trap them before they could raid their targets and escape with their booty, or engage them outside the city before they could reach it, the option which Ian favored, not least because city fighting was tricky business, even with infantry. Collateral damage would also be a given, and he hated that.

So Ian planned to intercept the pirates in the Ricardo Hills just outside the city, seeking a non-decisive engagement to repulse them, or at least inflict enough damage to deter them. He didn't think he had enough strength to push for an outright victory, as outnumbered as his forces were. The plan was to hold out long enough for reinforcements to arrive. He also gambled on the pirates not splitting up, because that would mean diluting their force. Hell, he had _hoped_ they would split their forces for the raid, so that his superior technology could tear them apart piecemeal.

"Cornet Lewis, get your men to the clump of trees at four o'clock." Posey had explained to him specifically that they were _not_ trained in code. The APCs headed for the trees, while the other mechs of his command took up positions around his _Awesome_. Daniela's _Masakari_ and Benny's _Daishi_ anchored each flank, the lynchpins of his force. The militia milled around aimlessly, and Ian had to tell the pilot and crews of each mech and tank where to go and what to do. He wasn't unfamiliar with this sort of thing, having done the same many times before in the Chaos March, but this time, it simply felt different, because he was commanding troops not as a mercenary, but as a noble of the realm.

They settled around several tall hills which offered them unrestricted line of sight in all directions. Of course, there'd be blind spots behind some of the other hills, but Ian judged that for the enemy to try going over those hills would not be easy, unless they had jump jets. The infantry on one side would shield that flank as much as possible, while his own _Awesome_ took up position nearer Daniela's _Masakari_ on the side without any infantry.

Then Xie Xun's green painted _Men Shen_ appeared on their scopes, moving swiftly on the rocky terrain without stumbling even slightly, attesting to his superb piloting skill.

"Here they come! Watch your front!" Ian brought up his targeting cursors, aiming at the area behind the _Men Shen_.

Sure enough, the pirates burst into his sights in a three pronged fork formation, moving as fast as they can. Ian counted at least 10 heavies and assaults amongst the pirates, including a massive _Zeus_.

Still, he took solace in the fact that Benny's _Daishi _was even bigger.

Ian shouted "Fire!", and battle commenced.

Daniela Mattlov grimaced as a particle bolt splashed next to her cockpit window, melting off armor on the right torso of her _Warhawk_. She hammered back at the _Zeus_ that had shot at her with her own ER PPCs, while a large pulse laser sought out a fast moving _Phoenix Hawk_ that was jumping and sniping at the dug-in tanks.

The _Zeus_ was exposed from the waist up, its legs shielded by an outcropping of rock. One PPC struck home, blasting armor off the left, while the other wasted itself against the rocks. Her pulse laser tracked the fast evading _P-Hawk_ unsuccessfully as it ducked behind a large hill.

"Freebirth!" She swore vehemently, and waited for her PPCs to recharge for another attack on the _Zeus_. 

She was about to fire her PPCs when a heavy autocannon burst from an _Orion_ crashed against her _Warhawk_'s arm. Inexplicably, the status light for one PPC blinked out.

Mattlov cursed. "I have lost a PPC! There was no breach!"

Ian replied almost immediately. "Armor piercing rounds. That's what they're using! Daniela, pull back!" More rounds seemed to be heading for her _Warhawk_ now, as the pirates scented blood. The blood of a assault class clan omnimech.

"Neg." _Time to show these filthy spheroids what a true clan warrior can do. _She placed her targeting cursor over the _Orion_, and unleashed pure hellfire at it.

The _Orion_ had been moving forward bravely to get within range for its guns, and that foolhardy move had placed it squarely within the comfortable targeting range of her _Warhawk_'s advanced targeting system. She held off from firing while waiting for the steady tone being issued from her neurohelmet that would indicate a successful lock.

The tone sounded high, indicating a high probability hit, and she depressed her triggers. All her remaining weapons carved into the _Orion_'s left side, where all the missile ammunition were stored. 

After the inevitable explosion, there was no _Orion_ anymore, just burning and melted chunks of mech scattered across the battlefield.

However, Daniela had no time to revel in her kill, because the _Zeus_ fired at her. Missiles splintered armor all over the _Warhawk_, while the particle cannon just missed her mech. The autocannon shaved away armor from the legs, but all in all, the damage was manageable.

The _Orion_ had gone down, but most of the pirates were still firing back, moving constantly from cover to cover to evade the fire from the slowly shifting militia force. Ian was keeping tabs on the enemy force, shifting his mechs around to prevent the pirates from outflanking him. 

Daniela did not mind much. After the forced tedium of the past few weeks, it was a massive relief for her to be engaged in real combat. Battle was what she lived for, what she was bred for. Social functions and tours were tolerable at first, but she found herself agitating for _something_ to do.

To her, a Falcon true, this was heaven. To crush her foes under the heel of her mech on the field of combat, to feel the thrill of battle, and hear the thunderous roar of the clash of arms. Now this was what the life of a warrior should be! Even if it was chasing pirates, something left to solahma. Right now, Daniela could hardly care less.

She swung her weapons at the offending _Zeus_. Without trying for a lock this time, she simply fired at it, flaying off more armor with her pulse lasers. The _Zeus_ staggered, but stayed on its feet, moving back in a retrograde maneuver.

An explosion to her right spoke of the destruction of a _Manticore _tank, while a _Po _crew were screaming on the radio of a turret lock. The two _Wasp_s were getting battered even though they were trying their best to stay out of range while the other militia mechs were taking a real pounding. The infantry launched SRMs at any pirate that came near their position, while they hugged the ground to avoid the fearsome mech weaponry.

Ian's _Awesome_ was firing its fearsome array of PPCs at extreme ranges, scouring armor off a _Thug _that was already moving backwards after taking too much damage. Xie's _Men Shen _skulked around the edge of the enemy line, sparring with two _Blackjack_s, and apparently more than holding its own even though outnumbered. Benny's _Daishi_ had staked out a nice firing position, and unloading its prodigious firepower on a poor _Atlas_ that had already lost an arm.

But the pirates were also shooting back with a certain degree of effectiveness; the militia mechs were taking a terrible pounding. The _Hatchetman _had already gone down with a destroyed leg, while the _Blackjack _looked certain to follow it. A _Banshee _and three mediums were moving steadily forward, eager to get within short range where their weapons would be most effective.

"Concentrate on that _Banshee_!" Ian called out, and Daniela reacted quickly. She shoved her weapons in the direction of the assault mech, as did Benny. A few seconds later, the _Banshee _crashed to the ground, one leg shot away.

The show of force seemed to have cowed the pirates, and the medium mechs immediately broke away rather than gamble on which of them would go down next under the guns of the clan mechs. With the medium mechs falling back, the rest of the _Shen Se Tian_ started dropping back, conceding the field to the militia. The pirates had lost two mechs, the _Banshee _and the _Orion_, while a few others were heavily damaged.

_Bunch of selfish freebirths_, Daniela sneered. _They do not realize that a good push would probably break our lines. So what if one or two mechs are lost? They can always claim our machines as salvage._

Ian seemed to know what she was thinking. "Daniela, they're not so stupid to break themselves on us when there's another pirate band coming in. That's the real reason why they fell back."

"So do we pursue?" Benny asked.

"We don't have the assets to engage them in a decisive fight either, not with the other pirate band coming in," said Xie, surprisingly. "The best we can hope for is to inflict as much damage as we can on them, hope they turn on each other, and wait for reinforcements to arrive from New Vandenburg."

Ian agreed. "And this exchange leaves us slightly better off, but not by much. I want the _Banshee_ salvaged ASAP. Maybe we could scrounge up something for the leg. Cornet Lewis, I want you to…" Ian suddenly paused. "Wait one."

"What is it?"

Ian did not reply for some long moments. Daniela took the time to check the status of her mech. The _Warhawk_ had borne the battle well, losing only armor, and of course the ER PPC to the damnable armor piercing ammunition. She hoped she could get a tech to repair the weapon, as they did not have much in the way of spare clan weapon pods. She also checked on the status of the other militia mechs, and was relived that the _Hachetman_ could be repaired with stores back at the base. 

"Good news," said Ian minutes later. "Reinforcements are already on the way."

Ian leaned back in his chair, while the other warriors gathered around an old conference table in the ramshackle briefing room of the militia base, all of them sweating profusely in the humid air of Landsmark. Above him, the ceiling fan fought a valiant, but ultimately losing battle to bring relief to the warriors, dirty and tired after their battle.

It was even worse for those who had arrived from the _Farstrider_. Ian could feel weariness from the exhausting trip pull at his consciousness. The heat didn't help.

Spotting an old rag laying on the table, he used it to wipe off the sweat on his face. It was no time to be choosy. For all the money his father had supposedly poured into the defenses of Taurian worlds, Ian wondered why the Landsmark militia was unable to afford even an air-conditioned office. And the readiness state of the militia was far from what he expected from a Taurian militia. There could be any number of reasons for this, of course, and Ian knew them all.

_I suppose I should check it out, but really, it isn't my business. _He scowled. No matter what, he was still a mercenary, and he expected to be paid for this action. But it was _really_ getting harder to act as a mercenary.

Because right now, most of the militia were worshipping the ground he walked on. Ian was beginning to regret using his real surname when they'd just landed to assume command. After their marginal victory in the Ricardo Hills, the militia seemed to have gotten in their minds that he was going to be the man to solve all their problems.

"Something to drink, sir?" Cornet Grig Lewis walked up with a glass of cold water with a few ice cubes, which Ian accepted gratefully. Lewis' deferential attitude made him more than a bit uncomfortable, but Ian decided to let it slide. He had bigger problems to deal with.

"Thanks." He took a sip from the glass. "Is everybody here?"

Daniela check her datapad, "Aff, Colonel."

"Good." Ian sat up in his seat. "As you all know, we've just beaten back the _Shen Se Tian_, but they'll be back before long. They're still pretty strong, and they seem to have only 20 mechs instead of the two companies we expected. I think they were expecting to claim mech salvage and load it up on their dropships. In any case, we destroyed two of their mechs, cutting them down to 18 mechs. The other pirate band, identity unknown, is still in transit with an _Overlord_ dropship, and will probably land on the 12th. The _Farstrider_ is in pirate hands."

He paused, letting everybody digest that piece of news. The _Shen Se Tian_ had used two _Unions_, allowing for a maximum of two companies, plus another lance if they converted the fighter bays to carry mechs. An _Overlord_, however, could carry an entire battalion.

He continued. "That's what we have on our enemies. Now for what we have. Everything we have here, of course, and the two more battalions of infantry on the way. Cornet Lewis, when are they arriving?"

"In four more days, Colonel."

"Good. In addition, the Red Chasseurs are already in-system with 2 companies of mechs and two platoons of battle armor. They've already captured the _Shen Se Tian_ jumpship when they jumped in."  Murmurs greeted his announcement, a hubbub of whispers as the troopers discussed the issue amongst themselves.

Daniela was puzzled. "But the Shen Se Tian jumpship was at a pirate point. How could they have arrived so…" Realization dawned on her. "They knew where the pirates would be!"

Ian nodded. "It was a trap, pure and simple. The Chasseurs didn't tell me this, but they came in too quickly for it to be anything other than a prearranged plan. Somebody just forgot to keep us in the loop."

_And somebody wanted me here_, he thought but did not say out loud. Again, he had his own suspicions. _Why is everybody so damn insistent on manipulating me?_ "Questions?"

Benny popped the silence first. "Any idea how we're going to get the _Farstrider_ back?"

"The Chasseurs have battlearmor, which they used to capture the jumpship at the pirate point. I'd guess that they're already planning to take back the _Farstrider_ and also the other pirate jumpship as soon as they can."

"But wouldn't that leave us with two pirate bands with nowhere to go? I dunno why, but I don't like it." Posey mentioned.

Ian grinned humorlessly. "You're right in a way. When you surround an army, leave an outlet free. Do not press a desperate foe too hard - Sun-Tzu, the ancient fellow, not yours, Xie. No offense meant."

Xie smiled in understanding. "None taken." The rest of the warriors scratched their heads in confusion. _Looks like none of them had read the classics…_

"But do we really want them to escape?" Ian asked. "This is an unprecedented chance for us to eliminate two pirate bands in the area. Yes, we will take heavy losses, but better that than allowing them to continue their rape and pillage of the Concordat."

Everybody nodded. Piracy was ever the bane of worlds and nations sited on the edge of nowhere, and here was a rare chance to put not just one, but two bands out of business.

Ian stood up. "I'll contact the Chasseurs, and tell them to get those jumpships. And I want everybody to get their gear in fighting shape, because you'll be the fight of your lives once the other band arrives, and maybe even before then. If we had the _Catapult_ and the _Whitworth_ just now, we could have taken a bigger piece of them. So get to it."

_Dropship _Bewailer,

_In Transit_

Milton Hawkings squinted out of one badly bruised eye as he awoke. He coughed once, feeling the spittle drip down from his broken lips. Amazingly, he's still alive. He looked around his makeshift cell, the brig of a large dropship. Or at least, that was what he assumed, from the steady acceleration he was feeling, and the dull thrum of fusion thrusters he was hearing. His ankles were handcuffed with plastic cuffs, as were his hands, which were behind his back.

_What a mess I am now_, he thought. _Wonder what these pirates want? Maybe I could talk to them again, pay them off…_

He laughed for a moment, before the pain in his ribs stopped him. Yeah, that had worked _real _well the first go round when the _Farstrider_ was boarded. It had worked so well they had beaten him up instead of killing him outright.

Milton regretted not going with Ian to Landsmark. He regretted not staying back on New Vandenburg when Brenda Calderon told him she needed his help with the planetary economy. He regretted not taking a vacation back on Taurus when he could.

He regretted not taking the opportunity to propose to Jenna when he could have, because he knew he was going to die.

_No, dammit, I'm not gonna die here_, he promised himself. _I'm going to escape, and… and what the heck?_

There was a series of footsteps near his cell, and Milton thought he could hear several different people whispering. He crawled inch by painful inch nearer the source of the sounds.

"Keep it down, you surats," somebody, a male from the sound of it, whispered. "I do not want Siphus or any of his lackeys hearing us."

_Hmmm? _Milton thought, forgetting his pain for the moment. _This is interesting…_

"What about the prisoners? What if they overhear us?"

The voice which had spoken of silence replied, "They are just civilians. Nobody will believe them. Siphus is not so silly as to allow such divisive rumors scuttle our unity." The man laughed scornfully.

"Okay, Hadden, so what do you want?" A female voice asked. "You get all of us here, so I assume you have heard something that concerns the clan?"

_Clan? _That word piqued Milton's interest. _Jenna's supposed to be a clanner too, except she still doesn't remember. So who are these people?_

"Aff, Sarit." The man replied. He was obviously the leader. "I have heard something that might interest all of you."

"Stop wasting time and spill it out, Hadden." Another man this time, whose voice sounded like sandpaper grating.

"Very well then. I assume all of you had heard the rumors of one warship of our clan surviving in the Periphery. I can confirm that rumor. The _Osis' Pride_ has survived the False Star League's Annihilation, and is calling all true warriors of the clan to rebuild the clan."

There was stunned silence, while Milton tried desperately to recall what he could of the clans. If he remembered correctly, after checking up on the clans when they found out about Jenna's past, or what little there was of it, the 2nd Star League annihilated just one clan, the Smoke Jaguars. These were likely to be survivors from that clan.

"Could it be true?" Another female asked. "And if so, where did you hear this from? And why now?"

Milton could almost sense Hadden's smile as he replied, "I have contacts on Landsmark, who I trust. They are warriors of the clan, now hiding among the sniveling masses of the Taurian Concordat, waiting to bring us back into the fold, so to speak. I could only confirm this now, and not before because all I knew was through intermediaries on Port Krin. But I just received a transmission from Landsmark that confirms those rumors, and I am sure of the source because he is an old comrade."

"So you wish us to carry out a mutiny? This is dishonorable, and you know it. We were defeated in honorable combat by Siphus."

Hadden scoffed. "When our mechs had only half their weapons working, and only then because he ganged up on us a small group at a time and claimed us as bondsmen! You call that honorable? I do not. Which is also why I feel it is justified for us to shatter these stravag barbarians from within when the time is right. I had bided my time for years, acting the part of the loyal but slightly antagonistic subordinate for too long. Now is the time to regain our heritage and make the Inner Sphere tremble in fear!"

"So what is the plan?" Another male asked, obviously awed by Hadden's conviction.

Hadden started outlining his plot, and Milton listened in carefully. _This could be useful…_

Oh, what a tangled web I weave… I'm just making it up as I go along, with bits and pieces from FM: Updates being thrown in.

It looks like I can fit the events from the Field Manual in after all, though it'll take a bit of twisting here and there.

For starters, the Calderon Protectorate is a reality. However, most Taurians still claim it as a part of their nation. I've changed what sections I could find in the previous chapters that mentioned this. Also, the failed Taurian assault into the FS is also included, and I'm taking the Pleiades Lancers as destroyed. Hellespont is still being extremely unruly, and this will also be dealt with.

The _Osis' Pride_? Hehehehehehe!!! *cackles evilly*

Now for your comments…

**Tangmeister**: I like ubermunchkins too! But the real ubermunchkin has yet to appear.;)

**Marwynn**: Sorry for not getting this up earlier. You know, I was thinking of using both your unit and the Sun Dragons Takiro thought of in my fic…

**Sphinx**: No big explosions yet. I decided to split this section into three(or even more) parts instead, and this only sets up the really big mess later on. I'm losing track of all the parties involved!

**Eddy_s**: Actually, Des would make an even bigger impact later on. Count on it.;) As for Yoshino, he'll be in trouble for the next chapter. But it's _good_ trouble. Hehehehehe…

**Ayce Shade**: Keep the comments rolling!

**Chu-i Odie**: From FM:Updates, 3rd Benjy is dead. *sob, sob* I loved these guys too, coz I used them one to wipe out a friend's mercenary company to the last man! Nostalgic value! Don't worry, they might make a comeback!

**Aeain**: Hoped you like the starting sequence of the boarding action!

**Duo**: Hey, I'm slogging away for my honors project! And there're a dozen other stuff I have to deal with! I'll try my fastest, but no promises!

**Mbwun**: Kill Victor? Now there's a thought… Just kidding, just kidding! *shudders from the thought of being lynched by the Davionistas*

**Vejut**: Good to see you here!

**The Not So Nice Guy**: *Blinks* Hey, I'm working on it! Really!

**Fblue**: I'm beginning to feel a bit strained myself. Especially when I read other fics where the people go to the conclusion rather quickly, while I'm still stuck halfway. The urge to reveal EVERYTHING becomes unbearable.

**Dr. Oz**: Art? Sure, you jest! I am a scientist!^_^

**The General**: Now, do you really want me to rip apart your comment? Nah, I'm in a forgiving mood today.;)

**Thunder**: Long time no see! Now, if you can just upload your stuff here… ;) I plain forgot about Solaris. A bit too clunky for my taste, actually.

**Shank**: Did you manage to get the italics etc working? I think Word 97 isn't up to it…

No design previews for this chapter. I can't quite figure out which evil mech to put in anyway!

By the way, my name's in the credits for Technical Readout: Project Phoenix! And it's also on the _Phoenix Hawk_ picture on the back of the TRO. WOOT!!! Watch out for **_By Temptations and By War_**, Loren Coleman's next MW:DA book! It's gonna be excellent!!

Next chapter, Descartin and gang on Avon. If anyone asks, then yes, Avon is an important world manufacturing _Unions_ and _Overlords_. I might also have the _Neko'hono_(or whatever; reminds me of Neko Bijin) to be produced there.


	13. Winters

_The extremely low proportion of naval shipyards to population could be regarded as a consequence of the Succession Wars, only to be saved as the Houses re-instituted the Ares Conventions, or a version of them anyway. But it also offered a deadly Achilles Heel to whoever was willing to exploit this weakness. Cut down your opponents' transport facilities, and you'll have them at your mercy. Max Liao and Tsen Shang knew what they were doing when they hit Kathil in the 4th SW._

_In more recent times, the Black Dragon Rebellion showed the evolution of this strategy even more clearly. The Word of Blake, silent participants in that fratricidal conflict, would carry this line of thought to its logical conclusion by using nuclear weapons to cripple humanity's links to space._

_Many factions paid dearly for the Blakists' strategy. The Snow Ravens come to mind._

-_Space Revolution_, David Bellion

_Imperial City, Luthien_

_Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine_

_20th September_

_Shogun_ Hassid Ricol looked on the approaching procession of vehicles with cold satisfaction. After so long, so many years of hard work, he had finally succeeded in his dream. The Draconis Combine belonged to him.

Not all of it, of course, not yet, but he was confident of its inevitability. There had been setbacks, but not fatal ones, like the failure to eliminate Hohiro Kurita. And with control of Luthien, came control of the Combine. It was not just the political centre of the Combine, but also a manufacturing powerhouse that churned out upwards of 40% of the entire Combine's mech production. In comparative terms, it was even more crucial to the Dragon than Hesperus was to the Elsies.

"Is everything ready?" Ricol spun around and asked Vance Rezak, resplendent in his new DCMS issue uniform, sporting the insignia of a _Tai-sho_. _Tai-shu_ Kiyamori Minamoto was also supposed to be present, but he was too busy reviewing reports from their campaign to clear the Combine of all dissenters, as well as figuring out a way to retake Avon.

The former pirate smiled fastidiously. "Yes, _Tono_. Everything is in place for the young Coordinator. There's still some debris and uh… organic waste material we have to clear out, but his path through the palace to the throne room would be perfectly clean."

"Excellent, Vance. You shall be rewarded handsomely for your efforts." Ricol turned back to the vehicles travelling down the long motorway while flanked by an entire company of traditional Combine battlemechs like the _Panther_, the _Wolf Trap_, and the _Dragon_. "Nothing must go wrong for Jubei as he ascends to the Dragon throne."

_Appearances must be kept, but the final power still rests in my hands._ Ricol smiled. It had been so difficult to seek out a Kurita malleable enough for their purposes, but it had been entirely worth it. All the time and money spent squelching the few brain cells left in Jubei's mind had resulted in a near mindless Kurita who was only too willing to listen to his most trusted advisor _Shogun _Hassid Ricol.

Ricol snickered inwardly.

The line of vehicles halted in front of the porch, as did the mechs, where a red carpet with a few yellow birds awaited Jubei as he left his hovercar. Arrayed on the sides of the carpet were a few cameras, crewed by newscasters reporters loyal to the _Kokuryu-kai_ filming the event for public consumption.

The doors of a hoverlimo opened on its own, and Jubei Kurita, the would-be Coordinator of the Draconis Combine, stepped out. He was dressed in a traditional Japanese attire, tailored to emphasize his height and strength. From a distance, he looked every inch the classic Kurita samurai, strong and proud.

It was all a façade. Ricol, who knew where to look, saw the half empty gaze of Jubei's eyes, the weak form of his chin, the smoothness of his face that was more suited to that of a courtesan than the scarred visage of a battle hardened samurai. Even an experienced warrior could discern the flaws in his stance. Too rigid, unnatural. Liable to break with a strong wind.

Jubei walked down the carpet at a deliberate pace, followed at a distance by his attendants and bodyguards. Ricol narrowed his eyes as he saw the Word of Blake Precentor Takei Inamoto walking behind at a discreet distance. As much as he owed the success of his plan to the Blakists, he detested the idea of the Combine coming under their sway.

No, he already had a plan to rid himself of those accursed Blakists. And it would start with a firm message. A very firm message, to be delivered by Rezak's hand and pistol.

As Jubei approached him, Ricol smiled widely. "_Koninchi-wa_, _Shogun_ Ricol." Jubei said solemnly. To his surprise, Jubei spread his arms out wide, and walked up to him for a hug. Unable to think of anything else since this wasn't what he had planned, Ricol smiled even wider, and clasped the young man in a comradely embrace. He patted Jubei several times on the back, all the time wondering what sort of spin he was going to put on this.

Then there was a cold sensation between his chest. Ricol gasped, then pushed himself away from Jubei. He glanced down at the dagger in between his ribs, then looked up in disbelief. "What…"

Jubei Kurita was smiling sadly, his eyes no longer vacant, but filled with deadly purpose. He said, "Did you really expect me to be your figurehead? You underestimated me, Ricol, and now you shall pay for all you have done. I, and only I," Jubei said softly, "shall be the undisputed ruler of the Combine. You can never be trusted."

_No, this is not possible!_ "Vance, kill… him!" Ricol managed to stammer out. He was getting cold, so very cold. He could feel the strength leeching from his body, and darkness seemed to be clouding in from the edges of his vision. He could sense the various gathered media people just filming away. None of them came to his aid.

Ricol pointed a shaking finger at Jubei. "Kill him!" He yelled again to Rezak, but there was no gratifying sight of Jubei being shot in the head. Instead, the young upstart stood in place, solemn and confident at the same time. Ricol dimly realized that Precentor Inamoto had walked up beside Jubei. Losing his strength, Ricol fell to the ground on his knees and hands. He could feel the metallic taste of blood surging up his throat. His end was near, but by the Nine Hells, he will see Jubei pay for his treachery!

Unable to resist the urge to see what had happened to Rezak, Ricol turned his head. He was shocked to see a grinning Rezak holding a silencer pistol in one hand, and a katana in his other hand, with dead bodyguards all around him, a gathering pool of blood beneath their cooling bodies.

Rezak bowed deeply, and spoke, "I, Vance Rezak, pledge myself to the service of the Coordinator."

"Arise, _Tai-shu_ Vance Rezak." Jubei ordered, then said to Ricol. "Do not worry, Hassid," said Jubei with earnest fervour, "The Combine shall be strong under my leadership. With the help of our allies in the Word of Blake, we shall conquer the Inner Sphere and lead our people to their glorious destiny. You have done your part. Now is the time for you to rest. You have earned it."

_No, no, you are a fool, Jubei! The Blakists are just using you! The Combine will be nothing more than a puppet state! And you, Rezak! You had planned this all along! _All these thoughts ran through Ricol's mind, yet he could not even muster the strength to warn Jubei. _How could I have miscalculated so?_

Jubei waved one hand dismissively. "Dispose of _Shogun _Ricol, _Tai-shu_ Rezak. We shall organize a grand funeral for you, _Shogun_ Ricol." Tai-sho_ to _Tai-shu_, the price of loyalty,_ Ricol reflected bitterly as he saw Rezak raise his sidearm to aim between his eyes. He looked into the dark recesses of the gun barrel.

Then he knew no more.

_Ihara Family Estates, Avon_

"Come on, you have to be faster." Yoshino Ihara commented as he parried another sweep of the _shinai_ from young Kitsune, who was pressing the attack for all he was worth. Sprawled on one side of the dojo was Descartin Winters and Ethan Morimoto, both exhausted after their own sparring session. His loyal head manservant Toda sat quietly to one side, taking notes, no doubt on room for improvement for all involved. Isis Marik looked on dubiously, probably worried for Kitsune.

_She doesn't have anything to worry about_, Yoshino thought, _this is just a sparring exercise, and if Kitsune gets a few soft whacks from me, well, that's traditional samurai toughening for you. But I've to admit he's doing well enough that he doesn't need that sort of 'encouragement'._

It had been a long and hard two weeks after Descartin and his ramshackle command had arrived in the Avon system. The Black Dragons had committed the entire 11th Ghost regiment to capture the crucial dropship and weapons manufacturing facilities on the world, and their sudden, rapid assault had pressed the local garrison unit, the mercenary battalion Storm Angels, almost to the breaking point.

But Major Ethan Morimoto had eventually managed to hold the 11th Ghost to a stalemate, and was even gaining the tactical advantage when Descartin arrived. Jumping into the system almost simultaneously were a contingent of the Guardians of the True Path, derisively called the Sun Dragons by the Black Dragons, led by Jon and Robert Takiro.

Almost immediately on their arrival, Descartin had executed a combat drop right on top of the 11th Ghost command HQ with the combined force of their mechs and DEST troopers, killing their commander and sending the entire unit into disarray. The Ghost regiment had tried to rally, but Yoshino's position as the returning prodigy sparked a wave of intense patriotic fervour amongst the already Nova Cat-sympathetic populace which eventually convinced the 11th Ghost that the battle for the planet was a lost cause. Of course, the media war waged by Takura Migaki had played an important role in that too.

The retreat of the 11th Ghost had left behind many significant intelligence documents which the ISF had eagerly seized, and their analysis had in turn yielded the first true inkling of the overall strategic situation in the Combine, as well as the various loyalties of the units involved.

Yoshino had remembered reading through the initial assessments along with the rest of the command staff, and the overall consensus was, "We're fucked."

The Black Dragons commanded a surprising total of 30 mech regiments, most of them fully supported by auxiliaries such as vehicles, infantry, and aerospace forces. They had even managed to control five of the Combine's precious warships, which gave them a substantial space warfare capability.

While there were still 50 odd loyal units that had rightfully denounced the rebellion for what it was, many of them were still required to guard the Draconis Combine from the other Houses and the clans. Though the Federated Suns border was largely denuded of loyalist regiments, the front with the Ghost Bears and the Periphery were another matter.

Even with the assistance of the Nova Cats, many loyalist regiments on the Ghost Bear front could not be moved away for fear of the clan smashing its way through the weakened border. In hindsight, it was obvious that _Tai-shu_ Minamoto had been using his authority to place the Combine's units in such a way that loyalist regiments would either be picked off or isolated without support right from the start, or else be trapped on the border guarding against the Bears, while his own rebel units were free to claim the rest of the Combine, particularly the more crucial facilities and capitals. _The ISF had really dropped the ball on this one,_ Yoshino thought. _And once he had claimed enough production facilities, the units on the clan front would have no choice but to submit to him if they wanted to continue receiving enough supplies to do their jobs._

In the end, that had effectively left Hohiro with only 20 odd regiments to fight the Black Dragons. And a great deal of them were still recovering from the Ghost Bear War and the Draconis March incursion.

Luthien had fallen to the _Kokuryu-kai_, of course. And New Samarkand. Marduk. Al Na'ir. Dieron. Midway. Quentin. Practically the entire mech production of the Draconis Combine now laid in Black Dragon hands.

_Is there a worst way to start a civil war?_ Yoshino pondered even as he swatted away another vicious swipe from Kitsune, who was tiring fast, his young body not used to such physical exertion. _At least Hohiro did not end up like Victor Davion. He's only a jump away from Luthien and ending that _baka_ Jubei's life._

Finally, Kitsune lowered his practice sword, apparently exhausted. Yoshino nodded though his _men_, and they both knelt to each other, and bowed, signifying the end of the match. Yoshino took off his _men_, and patted Kitsune encouragingly on a shoulder as he stood up. "Good work, boy. You've done well. Now go to Toda. He'll tell you what you have to improve on. Then go take a bath. Your uncle is arriving soon." The boy nodded in reply. He did not speak, a far cry from his formerly exuberant manner before the war started. _War does that to children, _Yoshino noted sadly.

As Kitsune skittered away quietly to the old manservant, then the two of them moving out from the dojo, Yoshino saw the look of disapproval on Isis' face. Descartin seemed to have noticed as well, and asked, "What is wrong?"

Isis pursed her lips for a moment, before replying, "Why are all of you indulging him in learning the sword? He's too young for this."

Major Ethan Morimoto shook his head, "No disrespect meant, Duchess, but in a typical Kuritan noble family, most kids his age would already be thinking of starting their training. True," he held up a hand to forestall her answer, "most start at 12, but there's nothing that says they can't start earlier. In fact, I'd say it'd be good for the mind and body of a growing boy. Or girl for that matter. Takashi Kurita started even earlier."

"But it's obvious that he's doing this because he's still mad over the Coordinator's death," Isis replied. "That's not going to be healthy."

Ethan looked over to Descartin, who had sat up straight, and was saying, "That is true, but what else could he do? Rather than letting him bottle up his rage, we will be letting him blow off steam in these sessions." Yoshino winced, remembering the sheer strength behind some of those blows during the session. That was some steam Kitsune was letting off. "And he gets to learn how to fight, which he would be doing when he is older anyway. Why not now, when he has motivation?"

Yoshino added in his two _ryu_. "Duchess, Kuritas, of all things, are warriors. Kitsune is no different. In fact, all three of us here started our training at about his age, or in Descartin's case, even earlier. These skills will serve him in good stead in the future. Don't forget who his father is."

Of course she wouldn't. Nobody in the room could. Victor was a warrior born, and Kitsune was the heir to no less than 3 warrior traditions. The Davions, Steiners, and the Kuritas all had produced many renowned warriors, and that would be the route Kitsune was most likely to take as well.

Isis sighed. "I just feel sad that his innocence has been taken away from him. What kind of world we live in, that makes young children learn to fight?"

Yoshino saw Descartin open his mouth to retort, probably to say something about the merits of the clans and the sibko system, except that he closed his flytrap almost immediately to spare Isis a serious put down. After a pause of a second, Descartin eventually said seriously, "A world where surviving is everything."

Out of a corner of his eye, Yoshino saw _Tai-i_ Shimazu walk into the dojo with a slip of paper. "The Coordinator is on his way," Lainie said without preamble, handing the slip of paper to Yoshino. "His dropship just landed, and he's in a convoy heading here now."

Because of security reasons after the botched attempt on Hohiro's life on Wolcott, there was no way they dared to receive Hohiro Kurita at the spaceport. There were simply too many places where a sniper could pick him off on the tarmac. Perhaps after a few more weeks, when they had stabilised the situation and hunted down the remaining _Kokuryu-kai_, but not now.

The estate was a different matter. Smaller than the spaceport, it was also far away enough from populated areas, especially the city, that might pose a problem. Security teams and mechs prowled the area around the estates constantly, while security cameras manned by loyal Sun Dragons kept an eye out for likely enemies. ISF personnel provided yet another layer of protection within the estate mansion itself, many of them acting as extra staff and servants while carrying concealed weapons.

With so many important people in the estate, which curiously didn't include him or Descartin, Yoshino understood the necessity of the paranoid levels of security. The fact that Theodore had practically handed to them all the accoutrements and symbols of the Dragon was another factor. All these were needed to lend legitimacy to Hohiro's reign, and the items had to be defended at all costs. There was the Coordinator's mantle, a heavy set of gold and gems signifying the Dragon's power. But its importance actually paled in significance beside the artefacts held in a well guarded room, which contained Shiro Kurita's ancient katana, as well as the entire contents of the Sanctum Arcanum. The collection of items alone would be worth billions, but the fact that they also represented the soul of the Combine made them priceless. Yoshino shuddered at the thought of losing those items. It had been an audacious decision Theodore Kurita had made when he made Descartin escort Kitsune and all those articles to Avon. _If we had lost them to Rezak…_

Yoshino checked his watch. "We have about an hour. Let's meet in the main hall in 30 minutes. I'll also get the others to join us."

The group left the dojo.

Ryo Saeba winced as the Physician of the Dragon poked a needle into his right arm, singing all the while in some weird tune. Unlike the populace, Ryo knew that the mysticism of the medical order was just so much useless mumbo-jumbo, but old habits die hard.

"That is the last shot you need, _Tai-i _Saeba." The doctor walked away, throwing the needle into a biohazard bin, and taking off his surgical gloves and then writing into a small notebook. "Congratulations on your complete recovery."

"_Domo arigato_." Ryo swung his leg, testing it for any pain. He was pleased not to feel any. He hopped off the bed. "I'd be going off now."

"Very well. Please tell the next person in line outside to come in."

As he left the clinic, he saw a _Gun-cho_ waiting for him, standing beside the line of bandaged and disgruntled DCMS soldiers seated on long benches outside the clinic. After telling the next DCMS trooper in the queue to enter the clinic, the _Gun-cho _had a message for Ryo to change into his dress uniform to receive the Heir Designate.

Twenty minutes later, Ryo was shuffling nervously beside the receiving entourage in the main hall. Yoshino was there, of course, in his capacity as the ranking noble on planet, not considering Isis Marik, who as usual, was taking charge of Kitsune. Descartin stood near the Duchess, while around her was Daisuke and Lainie Shimazu. Daisuke had not fully recovered yet from his injuries, but he had been adamant that he return to duty. The Nova Cat Secorra stood aloof from them to one side, while another clump of personnel denoted the ISF Directors.

Old Toda opened the doors of the hall leading to the porch, moments before they saw the cavalcade of vehicles and mechs enter the gates of the estate. The regimental insignia of a black tidal wave showed clearly their unit, and for the first time in his life, Ryo found himself envious of the Genyosha warriors as he noted the cutting edge units marching in. _I could have been one of them. If only I had toed the line and not cross it so often…_

Ryo grinned ruefully to himself. No, this was the way he was, and he was satisfied with himself. After all, had he not gained great fame and honour from his participation on Luthien? Sure, they might have lost the capital, but the price they had extracted from the Black Dragons would have them licking their wounds for quite a while. And in the few days they had since winning Avon, Descartin had actually managed to come up with an overall strategy for victory, one they would be unveiling to Hohiro very soon.

Leaving his hovercar, Hohiro Kurita's face was one of relief as he saw young Kitsune. Isis released Kitsune, who ran towards Hohiro, and the Heir-Designate gathered up his nephew in a crushing hug that elicited cries of delight from the young boy as he lifted Kitsune into the air. Ryo smiled along with the others as they saw Kitsune being happy for once.

Yoshino stepped forward. "_Koninchi-wa_, Hohiro Kurita-_sama_. I am _Daimyo _Yoshino Ihara, at the Dragon's service. Welcome to Avon, and forgive me for not receiving you at the spaceport." Despite the rushed nature of the meeting, certain proprieties still had to be observed.

"_Domo arigato_," Hohiro replied easily, "I understand, _Daimyo _Ihara. Now, introduce me to the brave men and women who stand with you."

Ryo stood proudly as he greeted Hohiro Kurita, taking the opportunity to observe the soon-to-be Coordinator. Hohiro Kurita looked very much like his father, and intelligence and courage shone from his eyes. Yet, Ryo could not help but feel something lacking from the younger Kurita, as if Hohiro's soul had not been tempered enough. _Perhaps this civil war will be the tempering he needs_, Ryo thought, shuddering at the likely cost.

The ISF people were next, and Hohiro nodded grimly as he noted the absences of several key figures, lost to either betrayal or death.

Then it was Hohiro's turn to introduce those who came with him. Ryo noted the sudden fire igniting in Descartin's eyes when an elderly and distinguished samurai wearing a pair of shades(of all things!) was introduced as _Tai-sho_ Narimasa Asano. It was interesting how things turned out. In the end, Descartin did manage to find Asano after all.

Toda appeared again next to Yoshino when the introductions were completed, this time holding a tray with the Coordinator's mantle. An old lady, _Jokan_ Constance Kurita, the Keeper of the House Honour, stepped forward as Hohiro kneeled before the tray, her movements slow due to age. Beside her was Franklin Sakamoto, Hohiro's half-brother and commander of the Otomo infantry, who had been injured in the fighting and was evacuated.

For a member of the Legions of Vega to be present for such an important ceremony was a sign of the Coordinator's favor, and Ryo, for once, was glad for the way events had led them here. He glanced at Descartin. _Well, funny how things worked out._

Descartin barely paid the short and perfunctory ceremony any attention as he stared at Narimasa Asano. The objective of his quest was finally within reach! But he just had to leave the letter from Jaime Wolf in his room. No matter, it should be easy to get to Narimasa Asano now.

The _Tai-sho_'s eyes wandered around the room once, before settling on Descartin. Descartin started as Asano nodded to him. _He recognises me?_

There was no time for further thought, as Constance Kurita kneeled before Hohiro, who was standing up with the mantle of the Dragon around his neck. Everybody else was going down on their knees, and Descartin gestured to Secorra, the two clan warriors doing the same.

"All hail the Dragon! Our lives for the Dragon!" The various Combine soldiers and servants in the main hall yelled. Those not from the Combine, like Descartin and Isis, did not join in, but stayed respectfully on their knees. Then there was a steady procession of further chants and cheers proclaiming the new Coordinator's wisdom, longevity, virility and sundry other stuff, which Descartin found mildly interesting. He suppressed an urge to yawn.

Hohiro stood with a grimace on his face, as though enduring the acclamation rather than enjoying it as any self respecting egomaniacal interstellar tyrant would. Descartin thought the new Coordinator seemed rather impatient, and wanted to get on with the more important and practical business of retaking the Combine. Which he personally agreed with.

And indeed, moments later they were all gathered in the briefing room of the mansion, sans the civilians. Descartin remembered with a smirk Yoshino's surprise when Toda had revealed the room to him, along with the various new additions to the mansion, which was far bigger and different than the time when he and Deserk had barged in trying to stop Yoshino from slitting his own belly.

Thinking of it made Descartin realise just how far they had come since those halcyon days.

"So, what do we have now?" The new Coordinator asked as he sifted through the reports flitting across his computer screen. "I would like to hear suggestions on how to deal with the Black Dragons, in light of the intelligence reports we have."

Yoshino shot Descartin a look. _Your turn to start jawing._

Descartin looked back, and shrugged. _You can do it just as well._

Yoshino glared at him, and jerked his head towards Hohiro. _I don't want to be accused of taking undue credit._

Descartin rolled his eyes. _Fine, fine. Your place, your way._

He cleared his throat, then paused as he noticed everybody looking at him. He said somewhat self consciously. "Uh, I have an idea."

Narimasa Asano sat back in his seat, awaiting the clan warrior's presentation. He was extremely interested. It was not everyday that a clan warrior would give a strategic briefing to Inner Sphere commanders. And more than that, he knew this particular clanner, who had been one of the very few warriors to face Morgan Kell and survive, was no ordinary soldier. Being a top ranked commander in the DCMS and having contacts with the Nova Cats was certainly useful.

A map of the Draconis Combine laid before them on a projection screen, the worlds under their control outlined in red, and those in the Black Dragon's clutches in black. Neutral worlds unclaimed by either side were in white. Certain key worlds were shaded, and glowing more intensely than other worlds. Some of those worlds glowed an ominous black, but had a ring of red around them.

"Those were the worlds needed to win back the Combine." Descartin Winters said as he walked around to the front of the table, a long pointer in his hands tapping lightly on each of the red ringed worlds. "Notice that we already have Avon, Chatham and Schuyler. Altair and Togura are still in doubt. Dieron and Midway should be the priority targets ASAP."

Hohiro grasped the implications immediately. "The shipyards. Naval superiority."

Descartin nodded. "Aff. The shipyards." He continued, "Actually, the idea for this came from my initial assessment of Avon, and its relative importance. The_ Nekohono'O_ class dropship made here had already proved its effectiveness during the Trial of Retribution, and it was obvious that the Black Dragons needed the shipyards here because they needed the dropships to achieve naval superiority."

"Since the fall of the Star League, and I mean the Great Father Kerensky's Star League, naval combat has been on the wane as warships become scarce, even in the clans. As a result, much of the emphasis was placed on ground armies slugging it out. Few navies had tools other than assault dropships and aerospace fighters to enforce their strategies. But now, I think the time and conditions are ripe for such an undertaking."

"We still have to defeat them on the ground," somebody pointed out.

"I understand. You all know that the Black Dragons have more effective regiments than you do, but that's only before you consider that many of them are now stuck with their conquests as well, which removes them from any reinforcing or offensive manoeuvres. Luthien alone has 4 regiments defending it! _And they cannot move away!_"

"Why not?" Hohiro asked.

"Because they have to control the mech factories there to have any permanent chance of success. Weakening the garrison means that a well timed strike by your forces could probably lose them the capital. They succeeded the first time through treachery. They won't have this advantage the second time round. Next, because we hold Avon, only a jump away, they can't budge, and their scarcity of naval assets means they cannot enter Avon without a great deal of risk. In fact, a regiment and half of troops would be sufficient to garrison Avon. If they ever downsize the Luthien garrison to 2 regiments, 1 elite unit from Avon with proper support can assault the Black Pearl for a beachhead and hold on for reinforcements."

"And the rest of Combine?" Hohiro swept one hand across the map.

"Local concentration of forces means that they have the tactical edge, but nothing more than that. It is well known that the attacker has the advantage in strategic scale campaigns, because he gets to pick and choose his targets, and can assign a preponderance of forces to ensure that they do stomp flat any opposition they encounter. When we factor in critical worlds and non-critical worlds, you actually have more than 15 solid regiments to carry out any offence, while the Black Dragons would be hard pressed to hold onto what they already do have. Forget about the border worlds on the Steiner and Davion fronts, or worlds without manufacturing facilities. You need weapons to win the war, and whoever wins this war will have to have the most key weapons producers and supply depots on his side."

"You mean for me to sacrifice worlds to the Black Dragons?" Hohiro asked with an edge in his voice. "I can understand stripping away troops from the inner fronts, but to deliberately take away troops from worlds vulnerable to the rebels?"

"_Tono_," Jon Takiro spoke up for the first time. "It would not be sacrifice, as long as we do not lose the loyalty of those worlds even after your forces have left. If the Black Dragons are so foolish as to spread themselves thin across the Combine," the old man smiled, "Why then, that simply makes our task easier!"

"Problem lies in the loyalty of these worlds," Asano spoke for the first time. "We do need some sort of campaign to ensure the people's loyalty. A propaganda campaign through the HPG network?"

He noticed Descartin exchanging glances with Isis Marik, who was the only civilian present. As the daughter of a House Lord, she was more than qualified to attend such meetings.

This time, it was Isis Marik who spoke, a bit apologetically. "Worlds that have declared for the Black Dragons seemed to have fallen out of Comstar's control, and into the Word of Blake's."

Everybody had been so obsessed with enemy troop figures and locations that they had forgotten to stay ahead of all developments. This placed a very different spin on matters, and explained Isis's embarrassment. Her father Thomas Marik had given the Word of Blake sanctuary in the Free Worlds League, and was still one of their strongest backers. For years the Blakists had laid low, but apparently they had decided to take a more active approach.

Asano shuddered slightly at what this might portend for the rest of the Inner Sphere. If the Blakists were finally crawling out of their holes, he had a suspicion nothing good would come of it.

Hohiro rapped the table lightly with his knuckles to get back on point. "Even the least important world is crucial to the Combine. If the Blakists really are cooperating with the Black Dragons, then we might have a problem bigger than just this civil war."

"In all fairness," Takura Migaki mentioned, "This was not the first time the _Kokuryu-kai_ had cooperated with the Blakists. The Blakists provided covert help for the Society ten years back during the previous assassination attempt on your father."

"Which was stopped by Camacho's Caberellos." A _Tai-sa_ noted. "They are on Hachiman. What are the chances we can call them in?"

"We are getting ahead of ourselves." Asano pointed out, trying to get the discussion back on track. "_Tono_, what do you think of abandoning some of our worlds to free up troops for offensive actions?"

"I do not like it, but that does not mean that I'm discarding it as an option. I mean to have 70% of the Combine's world behind me, at the very least. Also, we have to contact Precentor Martial Davion so that when we take back _our_ worlds, Comstar can help us garrison them. That should free up more troops without having them to garrison our gains."

Descartin blinked. "I had not thought of that."

Hohiro went on, "The basic plan is sound, I admit. It is the best option, unless we want to pay more lives and treasure on the way. Do we?" The shaking of heads around the room confirmed Hohiro's observation.

Descartin said, "So our very first step is to pin enemy forces where they are, and prevent them from further offensive actions. This is accomplished by careful use of warships and assault dropships to block them from attacking without incurring heavy losses, while placing our forces nearby to keep them where they are. Also, we will have to reinforce units that have a reasonable chance of winning their conflicts, and pull out those that are clearly outgunned. Exceptions are Altair and Togura. They have to be taken at all costs."

"Next, Dieron and Midway. With luck, this can be done before they turn out any new warships." Descartin shrugged, "After that, anything goes. In fact, even retaking Midway and Dieron is going to be a difficult task, because you will likely have to guard against Black Dragon counterattacks. The factories on Luthien will start working in a few months' time, and you will want to have a full naval blockade around Luthien in place by then. A warship backed by _Achilles_ gunboats and _Okinawa_ carriers, along with _Nekohono'O_s should do the trick, assuming their warships have already been dealt with. If conditions are right, you might even want to forget about retaking the other key worlds and the blockade and retake Luthien outright."

_Yes, he is a clanner all right. He has not forgotten about going for the jugular, though he is also aware of the risks. Or is he? _Asano asked, "Why not now?"

Michael Ryan answered this one. "When we jumped out, they had no less than three warships in-system. Going in at this time with the forces we have would be suicide."

"Supplies? Logistics?" Hohiro asked, and Asano nodded. Amateurs may study tactics, but only professionals study logistics.

Descartin Winters did not disappoint. In fact, he smiled slightly, as if the question had been anticipated. "That is part of the reason for taking the shipyards first. They would be needed to service and produce more transports for the logistics network, while denying the same to the Black Dragons." He tapped a key, and the map changed to a spider-web like layout, along with highlighted jump routes indicating supply lines.

Asano studied the network closely, but could not discern any real flaws. But he did have a question. "Having a network is good, but where exactly are we getting our supplies from?"

Yoshino Ihara stepped forward this time. "The Nova Cats. For the past 10 years, the Irece Prefecture has been rapidly industrializing and upgrading its industries. Matabushi has been more than willing to work with Clan merchants in procuring new technology and production lines, and as a result, many worlds in the Irece Prefecture are fully capable of producing both Inner Sphere and Clan grade weapons. In fact, on Avon here, we have several weapons manufacturers producing clan grade energy weapons, which can be refitted onto your omnimechs."

Hohiro frowned. "I thought the project was postponed for several months because Matabushi was unable to pay the Nova Cats?"

"The rebellion was probably incentive enough for their merchants to cooperate. Your brother might also have something to say to encourage that." Minoru Kurita was the current Nova Cat Oathmaster, and had immense authority in the clan.

"True." Hohiro said. "But I hope that is the extent of the Nova Cats' involvement in the Combine's affairs. We need them focusing on the Ghost Bears. The same goes for Comstar."

The Kuritan civil war was an internal affair, and as much as the Nova Cats were an allied power controlling a large chunk of the Combine, drawing them into the conflict would have raised tensions amongst those clansmen still getting to grips with their new existence. Asano knew from several private discussions that Hohiro had decided to take a page out of Peter Steiner's book regarding the Wolves in Exile, and decided to hold off using the Nova Cats until the time came to retake the capital. Until then, they were to serve the whole of the Combine and the Inner Sphere by extension by holding the Ghost Bears in check.

Descartin added a further point. "Also, we can expect substantial stockpiles on Black Dragon held worlds. Implementing an extensive scrounging and scavenging program on retaken worlds might be a good idea."

The discussion went on for another two hours, as they fine tuned their strategy and made contingency arrangements in case of unexpected developments. A sudden attack from the Federated Suns. The Ghost Bears invading again. A strike into the Combine from the Snow Ravens in the Periphery. The Blakists trying to expand their holdings by swallowing up worlds in the Dieron District.

Asano narrowed his eyes at the last. _The possibility's growing by the day._

As the meeting ended, while the various staff groups broke up, Isis was preparing to depart when Hohiro called out, "Duchess Marik, I would like to speak to you for a moment."

Isis stopped just as she was about to call for Descartin. "Yes, Hohiro-_sama_?"

"This concerns you and Kitsune."

Isis furrowed her brow. "What is it about us?"

Hohiro clasped his arms behind his back. "This place is not safe for either of you. In fact, the entire Draconis Combine is not safe for you. As long as Kitsune is here, the Black Dragons will take every opportunity to harm him. And because Victor had asked you to take care of my nephew, you will be at risk as well."

Isis shook her head, "We've survived so far."

"Only because of sheer luck. For your sakes, I'm sending you and Kitsune to Tukayyid, where you'll be safest. On the next outbound dropship."

She sighed, accepting the inevitable. "When?" She knew Hohiro had Kitsune and her best interests in mind, but she had a reason for staying on Avon. Or at least she thought she did.

"Tonight. I do not want to take any chances. You will be escorted by several assault dropships throughout your journey to the Free Rasalhague Republic. This is the least I could do for Victor and Omi."

Isis could only nod in agreement. Then she said, "This may be a bit late, but I am sorry for your loss. Your father was a great man."

Hohiro bowed slightly to her. "_Domo arigato_. I think in the end, this was for the best."

"How could you say that?" Isis was shocked. "Doesn't his death mean anything?"

His face tightened up. "It did mean something. In effect, he forced the last few reactionary elements in the Combine into the open. Make no mistake, Isis, this is their last gasp. Another decade or two, and the Combine would have accepted my father's reforms completely, even without the rebellion as the older generation faded away. All they've done is to hasten the process. This is a struggle between those who believe in the new Combine, against those who would rather return to the old ways, which would have ruined us."

"Did you suspect this would happen?"

"_Hai_, we did. There was a steady increase of reports warning of such an event, but as usual, we ignored it." He smiled self-deprecatingly. "We always seem to neglect reports which would do us the most harm." Then the smile faded. "But the price paid was my father's life. I have to make his sacrifice worthwhile."

"So it's all out war from now on?"

"Yes. I am thankful, Isis, for your efforts in helping Kitsune."

"I didn't do it alone."

"I know. This Star Captain from the Goliath Scorpions also helped, and I was surprised when he was the one to make the presentation."

Isis smiled, "He's a deep one. He's a skilled warrior, no doubt, but it seems that there is much more to him than meets the eye."

Hohiro dropped his voice to a whisper, "Unfortunately, I cannot accept his aid any longer."

"Why not?"

"As I have said before, this is an internal matter of the Combine. He has already helped us far too much. It's all too easy for the Goliath Scorpions or our citizens to have a… misunderstanding. I have heard of his quest, and I intend to send him onto Irece as soon as possible."

Isis ignored the slight coldness in her stomach. "Why couldn't he come with me and Kitsune to Tukayyid?"

Puzzlement flitted across Hohiro's face. "Why would he want to do that?"

Isis was about to reply when they were approached by another DCMS officer. "My apologies, _Tono_, but there are some matters…"

"I am sorry, Isis, but perhaps I will talk to you later."

"It's alright." Isis said as Hohiro walked off.

She paused for a while, before hurrying down the corridor, just in time to catch Descartin, who was walking alone. The clanner seemed to sense her presence, stopped, and turned around just as she came within arms reach.

"Isis, what's the matter?" Always the same level, calm tone, when he spoke she realised. But there was always an undercurrent of something she did not understand.

"Are you free now? I'd like to go for a walk."

Descartin shook his head apologetically. "Uh, I am quite busy, with preparations and all for the campaign."

_He hasn't been told yet. _"Des, Hohiro told me he doesn't want you to help any more. Because you're still a Goliath Scorpion, and he fears your involvement may create problems in the future."

"But he cannot stop me from doing what I want, could he?"

"Not really." Isis paused. "Anyway, I haven't toured the gardens since I arrived here, and Toda insists that I should before I leave."

"So what's the hurry?"

"I'll tell you as we walk. How about it? Don't forget, you'll still under my employ." She smirked.

Descartin flinched. "Urgh. I thought you had forgotten that."

"I also enjoy your company. Please?"

He smiled in resignation. "Fine. Since the Coordinator doesn't require my services, there is little chance that I will be able to obtain a mech to fight with anyway." He started walking again, before looking back at her. "What are you waiting for?"

"Nothing," she said as she caught up to him.

"Where is Duchess Marik?" Hohiro asked Yoshino, who was checking his wristcomp for the day's schedule. They were in the room marked as Hohiro's office, along with _Tai-sho_ Asano, supposedly to discuss matters pertaining to the civilian administration of Avon.

Yoshino wished he was somewhere else. Trying to fit back into the fabric of Kuritan society was tougher than he thought. He had to watch every word, try to remember customs he had not used for more than ten years, and generally try to conform to what was expected of a noble, especially one in charge of a major world. _Being a warrior in the clans was so much easier._

"_Tono_, I think she went for a walk in the park," Yoshino answered while concentrating on the problem of juggling the meetings such that they could retire before midnight. _Damn, we're running behind schedule for the day, and no way to cut it down. Oh well, overtime it is. No big deal._

"_Tai-i_ Shimazu is with her husband, while Daisuke Ichikawa is still on the injured list. The few remaining walking wounded of the Otomo are mostly with me." Outside the door, in fact. "Who is escorting the Duchess?"

"Do not worry, she's with Star Captain Winters. She should be safe enough." As the words left his mouth, Yoshino paused thoughtfully. That sounded rather suggestive. _The two of them? Can it be? Nah…_

"Well, I hope nothing untoward happens to her, _Daimyo_ Ihara." Hohiro sighed. "The last thing I need would be explaining to Thomas Marik how I got his daughter killed."

Yoshino nodded emphatically in agreement, then said. "Having somebody interfere now would be disastrous."

Kurita leaned back against the back of his seat. "Right now, right here, I want you to call me Hohiro, and to the Nine Hells with convention. In turn, I shall call you Yoshino. Just two warriors talking shop. After what you had done for the realm, and your heroism in the invasion, I think I can trust you."

Yoshino blanched. "I'm still trying to adjust to being in the Combine again. I'm having a hard time even trying to manage the civilian administration."

Asano laughed, and muttered softly, "Your troubles are just starting, boy."

Yoshino frowned. _Now what did that mean?_

Hohiro spoke, "I need confidants now, with Shin Yodama fighting on Togura. You seem like a good warrior, and you should be relatively honest after spending so much time in the clans. Years ago, my father formed a _shitenno_, a circle of his closest advisors. I need such a circle right now, composed of my peers and capable men I trust. "

"It's an honour, I'm sure, but…"

"You don't feel qualified enough?" Hohiro raised a critical brow.

"_Tono_, I just spent the past 15 years of my life gallivanting in clan space. That doesn't exactly build credibility."

"You did well enough when you took over Avon."

"Only because Takura Migaki was behind me every step of the way manipulating public opinion."

"And what is wrong with that?"

"Propaganda is often needed only when you need to convince people of something, and right now, my status needs a _lot_ of convincing. It also offers your enemies a possible avenue of attack by accusing you of coddling traitors. After what I'd done, or more accurately, _did not do_ in these fifteen years, that makes me vulnerable, and that affects you as well."

"No, Yoshino, you are exactly what I need. You are a living bridge to the clans, a testament to the spirit of cooperation. You are a gifted warrior, with many victories to your name. And your honour and loyalty in sticking to your word and bond in your time away from the Combine will play well in the eyes of many. You are no traitor."

Yoshino wanted to press the issue further. _But he's already made up his mind. Mujo. Flow with the times. _"Since you're so insistent, I bow to the Dragon's wisdom."

Hohiro smiled. "Good. I also wish to make your current status clear to everybody. As I'm now the Coordinator, there was a recent spate of promotions in the Genyosha. However, because of the lack of qualified candidates, we have a battalion CO post open. I'd like you to take it. You'll be a _Chu-sa_."

"But I'm also the Planetary Chairman of Avon." _I don't mind extra work, but I do mind if trying to do too much affects my performance._

Hohiro waved away the concern with one hand. "New times, new methods. You can fulfil both roles. Get reliable administrators to govern Avon for you while you fight with the Genyosha."

Yoshino rubbed his chin. "Well, Toda has been acting for my proxy for years when I was gone anyway. I could trust him, and whoever he picks to help him."

Asano, who had been quiet throughout much of the discussion, suddenly cut in. "Good, because Toda told me something a while ago which will affect you on a lot of levels. It'll help you fit right back into the Combine, especially in the nobility."

_Huh?_ "Asano-_sama_, what do you mean?"

"Toda's an old comrade of mine, as he was to your father. In fact, your father was a member of the original Genyosha under Yorinaga Kurita."

Yoshino was surprised. "He was?" _Why didn't my father tell me this?_

"_Hai_. Toda was not worried about your ability to govern Avon, nor your warrior skill. But he was worried the Ihara line would be left without heirs."

"So what?" The mention of heirs sent alarm bells ringing in his head. _No, not that matter again!_

"Well, you should know your parents, before their untimely death, arranged a nice noble girl for you to marry." Yoshino thought he could see silent mirth behind Asano's face.

He shivered. "Yeah, I do know that. I even know who she is. So what?" _Gee, I'm talking tough to hide my fear. After what she did to me that summer vacation, I'm going to stay the hell away from that she-demon!_ Never mind that it was years ago. Childhood scars were hard to erase.

"Well, your arranged bride _Dai-i_ Naoko Kawakami landed with us. She's currently squaring her troops away on the Takei Airbase. Because I'm a friend of your father, that makes me an elder you absolutely have to listen to, unlike Toda who you can brush away because of the difference in status. So I'm telling you right here, right now that I'm arranging for the two of you to meet tomorrow afternoon for lunch to discuss your wedding plans. That's what your parents would have wanted."

The younger samurai blanched in real fear at the words. _Her? A _Dai-i _in the aerospace force? Is this a joke on me by the entire universe?_

"You'll be getting married soon." Asano grinned sardonically. "Congratulations."

Yoshino gulped.

Descartin trailed slightly behind Isis as they walked through the garden. Jasmine and chrysanthemums threw off their distinctive scents, while orchids and even mycosia flowers provide variety. There were a dozen other species which Descartin did not even bother to identify. _I am no botanist. And I am not a lot of things. Hope they swept the garden for hidden bombs, especially near the mycosia flowers._

Isis breathed in deeply, clearly enjoying the natural perfume. "They must have put a lot of effort into getting so many different species. The colour coordination is excellent." She turned to Descartin, and grinned. "You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?"

"I have no illusions about how much I do not know." Descartin said. "I have spent my entire life for war, and I know very little else."

"You have your music."

"A pale shadow." He smiled ruefully. "Just a lousy hobby which I have negligible skill in."

"Why are you always putting yourself down like that?" Isis said with a tinge of irritation.

"Because it is the truth." _No need to go into that any more than necessary._

She did not reply, and they walked for several moments in silence.

"So, what was it that you _really_ want to talk about?" Descartin asked.

"Hohiro is sending me and Kitsune to Tukayyid tonight," Isis whispered. "I was wondering if…" She trailed off.

"Yes?" Descartin kicked out at a small stone, sending it skidding across the paved ground.

"Would you like to go with us?"

He halted in his steps, and looked at Isis. Her face was hopeful, and he was half tempted to agree to her request immediately. But he held back. The name Tukayyid still haunted him, even after so long. He could never forget the screaming, the cries for help. He could not forget the slaughter of both clan and Com Guard.

He could not forget that during the closing moments of the battle, he had revelled in the killing and the blood. _She is as high above me as the stars are._

"Isis, I cannot," he said softly.

"Why not?" _Predictable_, he thought. She looked him in the eye, and he suddenly felt uncomfortable.

"I have matters to attend to. Obligations to fulfil on Irece." Descartin looked down at his boots, trying to avoid her steady gaze.

"You could get Secorra to transport the giftake to the Nova Cats. You don't have to go there yourself."

"It is about honour…" Actually it wasn't. He _could_ hand them off to Secorra, or any one of the few Nova Cats who had accompanied Hohiro to Avon. At first, he had been planning to do exactly that, but now he wondered why he preferred to go there himself.

Isis frowned. "I don't think so. Are you afraid of me?"

Descartin blinked. "Of course not!" _Or maybe I am_, he admitted to himself. _And the worst part of it is that I do not know why._

She stared at him. "You know, I've only known you for a few weeks, but I've found you to be a good man. I've met a few clanners before, but you seemed to break the stereotype."

"I never was really a typical warrior. And the years since have made me drift ever further from the normal. But I do not mind, actually. After all, the Founder said that warriors are supposed to make their own paths, not follow them."

"Then make your own path, and follow me to Tukayyid."

"I… cannot."

She glared at him, and Descartin was momentarily grateful that she was not an enemy. Then her face softened.

"Those days on Luthien were good times, weren't they?" She said wistfully. "No need to worry about politics, war, or when the next assassin is going to strike."

"Yes, but war came by, like it always has." Descartin hesitated, then spoke words which he knew would hurt her. "Go to Tukayyid, Duchess Marik. Then go back to the Free Worlds League. This is not your place, this is not where you should be. I belong to war. You do not. It follows my every step, marking my path with blood. Leave, and forget me."

She stared at him again, and Descartin resisted the urge to flinch from her gaze. She looked at her watch. "I'll be leaving at 12 o'clock at night. You have 8 hours to make up your mind."

Isis Marik walked away, leaving Descartin alone to grapple with his own fears.

Ryo Saeba threw back his head, tipping the contents of the bottle he was holding into his  mouth, enjoying the sensation of the rice wine as it burned down his throat. He turned to Daisuke, who was quietly eating his own food. "You're not going to snitch on me, are you?" Ryo looked around the officers' mess in the estate, which had been converted from a servants mess hall to one for the officers of the DCMS. There wasn't a lot of people, and many soldiers had taken advantage of Hohiro's proclamation of a holiday to go out to the nearest city to have some fun.

"Other than the fact that alcohol is not allowed during meal time in the barracks, why should I do that?" Daisuke Ichikawa said sarcastically. The soldiers left on the estate were either on duty, or have no semblance of a social life whatsoever. The latter description fitted Daisuke perfectly.

"I'm off duty, Ichikawa. Want some? This is good stuff." Ryo swirled the bottle in front of Daisuke, trying to entice him into drinking.

"_Iie_. No thank you. I'm on duty later."

Ryo took another swig from the wooden bottle. "I thought you're done for the day?"

Daisuke put down his chopsticks across his empty bowl of rice, having finished his meal. "Apparently not. Duchess Marik and young Kurita are leaving for Tukayyid tonight, and I'm in charge of their escort."

Ryo raised an eyebrow, "They're leaving? So soon?"

"The Coordinator is worried that the conflict will place them in danger, and the nearby presence of 3 warships is enough reason to send them away ASAP."

"Yeah, but what about Descartin?"

"What about Descartin?" Secorra said as he walked over with his own tray of food, which consisted of rice with some fish and vegetables, plus a bland tasting soup. Interestingly, the _solahma_ did not mingle much with the newly arrived Nova Cat contingent, instead mingling more with the warriors he had fought beside on Luthien.

Ichikawa shifted his position slightly to give Secorra space to sit down on the bench. "We were talking about Duchess Marik's departure tonight." He turned back to Ryo. "But I don't understand either. What about Descartin?"

Ryo rolled his eyes. "Are you guys pretending, or you really couldn't tell?"

"Humour us." Secorra said, levelling a frigid gaze at Ryo.

Ryo sighed. "If you had been paying just a bit more attention over the past few weeks, you'd have noticed that sparks have been flying between our illustrious temporary commander and the Duchess."

"In other words?" Secorra asked. "Please explain it to me clearly, because I am obviously not conversant enough in the ways of you freebirths."

"They're in love, or something like that," explained Daisuke. "So that's your big revelation? I'm disappointed, Saeba. I knew that already."

"So you don't see a problem?" Ryo pressed.

"Ryo, Isis is a Duchess. The daughter of a _House Lord_. Somewhat in line for the Captain Generalcy of a whole Successor State, even though she looks far from it right now. Her partners have to be carefully vetted, her choices in life tightly defined. And I can safely state that a clanner will be far down the list of accepted suitors."

"But you're ignoring the fact that they like each other. And more importantly, even we can see it."

"It'll all be a dream to Isis when she leaves. A fling with the unknown, with the forbidden, if you wish, nothing more than that. I think she never had a semi-normal life until those days on Luthien with Descartin and Kitsune, and she simply latched onto Descartin as a focus for her attentions. Her leaving might be better for everybody in the long run anyway."

"Aff." Secorra agreed. "Descartin is a warrior. Emotional attachments will only distract him. He does not require such frivolous matters to concern him."

"Living for the battle, is that all there is?" Ryo asked. "Seems like an awfully boring way to get through life."

"Speak of the devil." Ichikawa muttered. "Descartin is here. Saeba, shut your trap about Isis, got that?" Ryo turned to see Descartin holding his own tray of food walking from the counter, looking somewhat shell-shocked.

"Hey, over here!" Ryo waved to the clan warrior. Descartin walked over to the table.

"You look stunned." Secorra commented. "Anything the matter?"

Ryo smirked at Daisuke. _I told you so._ Daisuke pointedly ignored him.

"Nothing." Descartin's reply was rather half hearted, then he seemed to be speaking to himself as he said, "I just need more time to think, dammit."

"Woman troubles?" Ryo asked knowingly, ignoring the look of death Daisuke shot at him. "I got lots of experience with that. Need my help?"

Descartin's face turned black. "No."

The other three warriors exchanged glances. Ryo was the first to break the silence, speaking uncomfortably. "Look, I know what's between you and Isis. Here is just a piece of advice…"

"I do not need your advice." Descartin interjected. "Who else knows?"

"Anybody with two eyes and some time spent with you and the Duchess," answered Ryo. "So, are you going to follow her to Tukayyid?"

"What business is it of yours?" Descartin replied, a bit angrily. "It is my problem, not yours. Stay out of it." He stood up, pushing his tray away. "I have no appetite. You are _all_ welcome to my dinner."

"Touchy, touchy," Ryo remarked as they watch the Star Captain stomp away. He turned back to the table to grab a fish from Descartin's tray, only to see Secorra already attacking Descartin's abandoned meal after finishing off his own.

The barrel shaped clansman looked up to see the two Kuritans staring at him. "What? I am hungry." He growled in warning, "Take my food away from me and I will kill you."

Descartin slumped back on his own bed. He was really, really confused by the events of the day. He swallowed a pained curse as his head hit the stiff pillow hard, which was pretty standard in a military. At least it was not a rock.

_Sleep_, he told himself. _By tomorrow my troubles will be over. Sleep. Sleep cures all. It has been a long day. It will be another long day. Sleep. _If he willed himself to sleep hard enough, maybe it would work.

_Sleep. Nice black abyss there. Hmmm… reminds me of space, and the stars, and of long walks at night with…_

_Sleep! Do not think about anything else! There is still a lot of work to do… well, not for me._ He groaned to himself. "In Kerensky's name, sleep! Ahhhh, fuggedaboutit! I give up!"

He sat up on his bed. He had laid there for twenty long minutes, trying to still his mind, using every single trick he knew from more than fifteen years of hard soldiering. They did not work. The thoughts always came rushing back into his head, and Descartin felt his brain was being a playground for a myriad of battling armies as he struggled with his choices.

_What do I do? What should I do? Why am I thinking so hard about this matter in the first place? Does it even matter?_

He clutched his head with one hand. The headache he had felt after the talk with Isis was coming back in full force this time.

Descartin was not ignorant. He had heard of the phenomenon called 'affection' and 'love', but he had not the slightest idea what they actually are. In the past, those were only glowing words on a screen, black ink on a book, or a rumour from his fellow warriors, never something to be experienced first-hand.

He knew sorrow, pain, despair. Indeed, he had known far too much of these in his life. But love? His time with Isis had introduced him to novel sensations which he had never felt before. In many ways, they had anchored him after his depression with Deserk's death in the Periphery. In hindsight, Descartin was sure he would have done something silly to himself eventually if he had not chanced upon Isis that day.

He did not have any obligation to follow Isis. But he did have Jaime Wolf's request to carry out. Honour guard for the _giftake_ of the fallen _abtakha_ who had fought for the Dragoons. Honour bound to carry out the request, all the way to the genetic repository on Irece.

But the Dragoons were not truly clan, and he could just as easily hand over the giftake to the Nova Cats without any loss of honour. As a free roaming Seeker, he could also go anywhere he liked. It was not as if he was absconding with clan equipment(Yoshino's _Nobori-Nin _did not count, since it was isorla from another fight). He could go with Isis to Tukayyid…

For what? To find out if there was anything between them? What if there was not?

Descartin was still mulling over his choices when there was a knock on his door.

"Enter."

_Tai-i_ Daisuke Ichikawa shoved open the door. "We're leaving in ten minutes. If you want more time to make up your mind, come with us to the spaceport. I'll be in a mech, and I'd like you to stay with Isis and Kitsune on the ground."

Descartin hesitated.

Ichikawa spoke again. "If you're too uncomfortable, I can find a mech for you. It won't be any top line unit, just something for you to think in."

"Okay. Thank you."

"Briefing's in ten in the mechbay." The Otomo turned to walk away, before he turned back to Descartin. "I don't envy you for having to make such a choice. But there is a saying I've heard, and you should heed it. Live without regrets, my friend."

Daisuke left.

An hour later, a battered medium mech marched alongside the dimly lit road, its searchlights roving around constantly to illuminate the area, while the other units around it did the same. A PPC slung under the right arm spoke of the mech's deadly intent in war, though it was mitigated by its dilapidated appearance.

Compared to the mechs Star Captain Descartin Winters had piloted before, all the bleeding edge Clan or Inner Sphere models, the economy-priced _Tengu_ was a pile of excrement, which was also why it was one of the few mechs left without a pilot after he original owner had died during the campaign against the 11th Ghost. Well, not as bad as the _Rifleman _he had used for a while on Outreach, but still… They could have outfitted it with double heat sinks, at the very least.

Nevertheless, the _Tengu_ moved smoothly alongside the convoy on its way to the spaceport, while the rest of the heavy escort, consisting of several APCs and a few other mechs, surrounded the armoured car holding Isis Marik and Kitsune with an open formation.

His hands moving of their own accord after years of piloting a mech, Descartin's thoughts were fully occupied with his final decision. He had, indeed, made his choice, just before they left. He just hoped it was not the wrong one.

"Heads up, Echoes," Daisuke said, "We're nearing the spaceport. ETA 3 minutes. Stay sharp."

Isis waited expectantly inside the dropship bay for the farewell party to arrive. They need to ensure that everything was ready for her to leave, and the dropship crew was double and triple-checking their systems to make sure that nothing would go wrong for her and Kitsune.

However, that was not the reason why she was so anxious.

The sound of combat boots on the ramp made her look up, and her heart skipped a beat as she saw Descartin walking alongside Ichikawa, wearing a stoic expression on his face.

Then she saw that his hands were empty, he still wore his mechwarrior combat suit, and that he did not bring along the small satchel bag that contained his most prized possessions. She understood immediately. He walked up to her.

It was all she could do to keep herself from shaking. She bravely held out a hand to him, which he took and shook gently. "Thank you, Star Captain, for seeing me off."

"Aff, Duchess Marik." She scanned his face, searching for signs of regret, but other than the slightest twitch of his eyes, she could find nothing that could possibly make him change his mind. "I wish you a safe journey. Take care of yourself, and Kitsune."

He looked like he wanted to add more, but she saw him square his shoulders. "Goodbye, Duchess Marik. I shall remember you fondly." He walked back down the ramp.

"And I, you," she said softly as she watched his retreating back.

The bright flare of the Overlord class dropship's engines turned the dark night into near day. Descartin watched from his position in front of his borrowed mech's legs, unsuccessfully fighting off the sinking feeling in his stomach.

He had made his decision, basing it on his promise to Jaime Wolf. So why did he feel like such a damnable coward? Like he had run away from a fight instead of seeing it to its conclusion?

"You made the wrong decision." Descartin turned to see Ichikawa. "Starting to regret it already?"

Descartin gritted his teeth. "I do not regret staying here."

"Your posture says otherwise." Ichikawa sighed. "I should know. A long time ago, it happened to me." Descartin started at the other warrior's revelation.

He smiled ruefully at Descartin. "I had my chance, and I threw it away, because I wasn't sure. I didn't have the confidence, the courage to face the future. I made the equivalent of running away. She left, and she died." He looked straight at Descartin, who had lowered his own head.

"I am a coward." The clanner finally admitted. "I thought it did not matter… but it did."

"As they say, hindsight is always perfect."

Descartin thought about calling back the dropship, or hijacking a ship to go after her, but realised he did not have the guts, or authority, to do that either. And the idea of facing Isis again after he had treated her so callously on her departure made his stomach somersault.

"I am such a surat." Descartin muttered sullenly. "I can handle a mech, tactics, strategy. I can face down a thousand foes without fear. But I cannot face her. I cannot admit my feelings."

Ichikawa grasped his shoulder. "There'll be other chances. And maybe after you had done what you have to do, you could go to her. Seek her out."

"Aff." _And I will find you again, Isis, once I am ready, _Descartin promised himself.

"Do you wish to know what Commander Wolf wrote in his letter to me?" _Tai-sho_ Narimasa Asano asked Descartin Winters as they sat in his office. Morning light streamed in from a window, the sun just beginning its long journey across the sky.

"Aff, I would like to know that very much." Descartin held a steaming mug of coffee in one hand. He sipped from it from time to time. It was, he suspected, going to be another long day. He would need the extra pickup from the caffeine.

"First, let me tell you the tale of two warriors. Their story started on a border planet called Mallory's World…"

_Chu-sa_ Yoshino Ihara rapped his knuckles sharply on _Tai-sho_ Asano's office door, feeling more than a bit uncomfortable in his new DCMS dress uniform. He absolutely dreaded what was gong to occur.

"Come in!" Asano said.

He opened the door, and saw Descartin with a glazed expression on his face. "Uh, sir?"

Asano waved one hand dismissively. "I was discussing something with Star Captain Winters here, and we're about to finish. Hold on a minute. Star Captain?"

Descartin seemed to have recovered, and said, "So the _Archer_ I fought on Luthien years ago was Morgan Kell's."

"_Hai_. You now share his abilities, his skill. You should go to Arc Royal, where the Grand Duke resides, for your answers."

Descartin nodded slowly.

"You belong to an elite cadre of warriors, Star Captain. Very, very few warriors have ever achieved this pinnacle. Records of them are extremely rare, because most of them died, or retired after they awakened."

At Descartin's querying look, Asano explained, "In the years since Nusakan, I have searched for others who possessed the ability. In all of the centuries of mechwarrior combat, I have found only fifteen. You are the sixteenth that I know of. Of them all, Morgan Kell has had the greatest impact on the Inner Sphere."

Asano stared at Descartin. "Will you use your abilities for the good of humanity, like he did, or will you shut them away like so many of your predecessors? Or would you use them in the service of the clans, to conquer the Inner Sphere once and for all?"

"I do not know."

"So look for Morgan Kell. He'll guide you." Asano turned back to Yoshino, who was waiting patiently in a corner.

"Ihara, sorry to keep you waiting. Let's go now."

Descartin twisted around to look at his former bondsman, who had an air of dismay around him. "Yoshino, what is going on?" The sombre mood in the room somehow lifted as Asano grinned at Yoshino's discomfort.

"My doom." Ihara answered the clanner glumly.

"Wahhhhh! Getting hitched so soon, eh, Yoshino?" Ryo Saeba teased his friend as they walked to the meeting room where Yoshino would finally face his fiancée. "You lucky bastard!"

Yoshino resisted the urge to put Ryo's face through the wall. Descartin Winters, Daisuke Ichikawa, and Secorra looked on with considerable amusement as they approached ever closer to what Yoshino considered to be his personal apocalypse. Tina walked beside Ryo, grinning along with the others as Yoshino's scowl deepened with every step.

He hated this entire idea of arranged marriage. But that was the wish of his parents, so he just decided to go through with it. It didn't mean he had to like it though.

Asano had gone ahead with Toda as go-betweens for the meeting, which was a formality for the bride and groom to meet each other. After all, it wouldn't do for them to see each other for the first time during the wedding itself, would it? It also offered them a chance to get to know each other better, though Yoshino doubted that happening.

Yoshino cursed Descartin under his breath for getting the others to come along, ostensibly as 'moral support'. Ryo seemed to take delight in the entire event, and the others did not seem to be offering any real support, if any, preferring to laugh at him instead. Secorra was the most honest of them all; he had tagged along just for the free delicacies.

Some friends they were.

It wouldn't have been so bad if Naoko wasn't such a… bitch. Yoshino winced as he remembered that summer vacation when she and some of her friends had dumped a whole pot of chicken feed on him and proceeded to lock him naked inside a henhouse for several hours. It took him years to get over his fear of chickens.

Even though Naoko was seven years younger than he was, she never seemed to have any fear towards the older boy, and Yoshino was bound by the strict conventions of Kuritan behaviour that dictated that he treat her civilly.

Unfortunately, Naoko didn't want to play by the same rules. And the worst of it was that every time he complained(quietly, of course) to his parents, they would take that to be a sure sign of developing affection!

And now he was going to be married to her. Yoshino suppressed a shiver. She was now supposed to be 28 years old. _Is it too much to ask for if I hope that she turns out to be an old hag so I can use it as an excuse to call this off?_

They reached the room, and Yoshino stopped, trying to gather up his guts and maybe stall for a few more moments of freedom. Ryo smiled evilly, and proceeded to open the door nevertheless, while Descartin gave Yoshino a firm shove on the back.

The group more or less stumbled into the room. Then they stopped, their jaws hitting to the floor in unison.

One of the most beautiful women they had ever seen was sitting serenely on the matted floor before the low table. She was clad in a blue and white traditional kimono that emphasized her figure.

Fearing the worst, Yoshino turned his head to look at Ryo. As expected, the _hentai_ was salivating from an open mouth. Drops of fluid splattered onto the expensive floor. _Ewwwww…_

"Come here, my pretty!" All hell broke loose as Ryo threw himself forward, and only Descartin's lightning fast hands managed to grab him by his collar, pulling him back. Secorra and Daisuke grabbed each of the man's arms, and proceeded to drag him out of the room, even while Tina was slamming a bag on his head with both hands to knock him unconscious. She wasn't very successful. "No! I want to be with my pretty!" Ryo was yelling, even as he was dragged out.

"Don't worry!" Daisuke grunted as he wrestled with the _hentai_. "Leave this _baka_ to us! Go meet your fiancée!"

Yoshino lifted a hand to his head, groaning as the door closed, followed by several scuffling sounds, then a series of extremely loud thumps that finally silenced Ryo. Meanwhile, Asano and Toda were shaking their aged heads, apparently at the antics of the younger generation.

"You have interesting friends…" Naoko smiled, and Yoshino could not help but smile back ruefully.

"I apologise for my lack of manners, my lady." He knelt on the mat opposite her, and they stared at each other for several moments before he tried to break the silence, "Uhm, I am Yoshino Ihara," he said somewhat stupidly. _Of course she would know my name!_ _Damn, when did she grow up so quickly? And into such a fine woman, no less?_

"I know. It's been a long time. I was surprised when _Tai-sho_ Asano told me a few years back that you were still alive."

"Narimasa-_sama_, you knew?" Yoshino asked. _No wonder she's still single. She was waiting for me the whole time!_ He felt more than a bit guilty.

"_Hai_. When the Nova Cats joined the Star League about ten years ago, Toda asked me to look for you. Obviously, I did not find you, but the Nova Cats did tell me where you were, in clan space."

"Then why didn't you try contacting me? I could have come back, or I could have tried."

Toda said, "I disagreed. I was there when you agreed to be Descartin Winter's bondsman, and such a vow is not broken easily. In any case, you have returned at long last, a strong samurai in your own right. Would you say your years spent in the clans have been a waste?"

"_Iie_. They were not a waste. I have learnt much, perhaps more than I would have if I had not been captured."

"So what did you learn?" Naoko asked. She smiled again, and Yoshino again found it difficult to reconcile this version of Naoko with the she-demon who had plagued him in their youth. _Well, it has been a long time, and I guess people change._

_Might as well start with some general topics and anecdotes. I am so sick of war and politics_, Yoshino thought. "Well, you know the stereotype of the clanners being nothing but killing machines. So I was surprised when…"

"So it all went very well in the end, _quiaff_?" Descartin asked Yoshino as they sat in the empty and dim mess hall, beer cans strewn on the table in front of them. With Yoshino's new duties, and busy schedule as a DCMS officer and planetary noble, and Descartin's impending departure for Irece in a few more days, this would be the last time both warriors got to talk.

"Aff. I was pleasantly surprised. You know about what I had told you about Naoko."

Descartin grinned. "I hope your getting henpecked in your youth is not going to be a harbinger of your future with her."

"Well, I hope not. I like this older version of her. Funny how time can change people."

"Sure it is not her appearance that is lulling you into a false sense of security?"

Yoshino grimaced, "I hope not."

Descartin lifted a beer can to Yoshino in a toast, "Yoshino, I wish you all the best for your future."

He lifted his own beer can to Descartin's, "Have a safe journey, my friend." They took long swallows from their cans of beer.

Descartin breathed out in satisfaction. "Thank you."

Yoshino sighed. "I think I also need to apologise."

Descartin shook his head. "For what?"

"I heard from Daisuke about your… problem. I'm sorry for not being there to help you make the right choice."

"You were busy, and besides, I do not think you could have changed my mind."

"So will you go to Tukayyid after Irece?"

Descartin leaned back in his chair. "I am not sure. Part of me yearns to see Isis again, but another part of me wants to go to Arc Royal instead."

"Or maybe you're just scared."

Descartin nodded glumly. "Aff. I might still be. In any case, I will go to Irece first, then make up my mind. After all, Tukayyid is on the way to Arc Royal. No reason why I cannot stop over first."

"Good luck, my friend," said Yoshino. "You know, I never figured us to end up like this so many years ago, in the garden. We've come a long way since then."

Descartin laughed, his dark mood lifting. "You can say that again! Remember when we were on Hector…"

The two old friends laughed throughout the night as they reminisced over their adventures and journeys. They knew it would be a long time before they might meet again. In the present age of war, it might even be the last time they would see each other alive.

_Imperial City, Luthien_

"So, what is Hohiro planning?" Jubei asked as he crossed his fingers in front of him, levelling a steady gaze at his military commanders.

Kiyamori Minamoto answered, "From our sleeper agents on Avon, it seems that they're going to concentrate on building up their naval assets and denying us use of the same. Obviously, we're going to counter by diverting all available assets to the contested worlds of Altair and Togura. Unfortunately, we have scant few units left to use."

Jubei frowned. "What about the warships above us?"

"Tono, we can re-deploy only one warship at the most, because anything less than 2 warships around Luthien would only invite them to attack."

"Is it possible to open Luthien up, then lure them into a trap?" Vance Rezak wondered aloud.

"_Iie_. I do not think so. Their assortment of _Nekohono'O_ dropships would likely extract a high price from our forces both in space and on the ground. And we absolutely cannot afford to lose control of the Luthien Armour Works, which would be almost certain to be their first target. And the Dragon must not be risked at all."

"My life doesn't really matter." Jubei said calmly. "What I want is the destruction of the forces espousing reforms in the Combine. If it takes my life to accomplish that, I am more than willing to pay the price."

Jubei thought back to the day when Ricol had plucked him from obscurity to be groomed for the job of leading the Draconis Combine. He was grateful to the noble, but Ricol's methods and known lack of trustworthiness could not be overlooked, which was why Jubei had Ricol killed.

Unlike so many who had opposed Theodore Kurita out of sheer spite or ambition, Jubei had a slightly different reason. While he never denied that Theodore's reforms had strengthened the Combine, it was also becoming clear that those very same reforms were sapping the people of their sense of purpose. With time, the Combine would lose its sense of direction to enlighten all of humanity, and by then what use would that strength be? To be a nation of pansies like the Elsies, strong on resources but weak on resolve? It would be a fate worse than death.

Minamoto continued, "Reports indicate that Togura is already a lost cause. Shin Yodama is crushing our forces there after he diverted his Izanagi Warriors there from their border inspection on the Federated Suns front. Any reinforcements would arrive too late to make any significant impact."

"What about Altair?" Jubei was determined that he retain at least one of the contested shipyards.

"Heavy fighting is still going on. I suspect Hohiro will also be sending forces to contest for the shipyards there, which means it could turn into a real meat grinder."

Rezak said, "Then I suggest sending the three regiments of Hampton's Hessens to Altair, and after that, be reassigned to Midway and Dieron. We cannot afford to lose the warships under construction in light of their strategy."

"Agreed." Jubei nodded.

"Coordinator," Precentor Takei Inamoto of the Word of Blake spoke up, "What about the Nova Cats? After all, one of the Usurper's heirs is in their command structure."

Jubei dismissed the concern with a wave of his hand, "Not a problem. Minoru's connections with the Nova Cats has already tarnished his image in the eyes of many loyal citizens of the Combine. For the time being, as long as we do not bother them, they will not bother us. They know that to take sides in this civil war would probably tilt much support in our direction. While that might make things even more difficult for us in terms of military strength, the amount of civil unrest caused by that would be even worse for them."

"But some of our units have attacked Nova Cat units in the field," Rezak pointed out, "It's very likely they'll not take it lying down."

"On the contrary," Jubei smiled carefully, "I have already laid out my case in a transmission to Khan Santin West, offering to recompense him for the actions of those units. He has agreed, and is willing to grant us the benefit of the doubt for the time being. Don't forget that the Nova Cats have their own problems to deal with, specifically the Ghost Bears."

"So our immediate objectives are?"

"To consolidate our control over the worlds we already own, and to claim the shipyards." Jubei said solemnly. "Naval superiority would dictate the fate of the Combine. People, this would be a long and difficult struggle, but I am certain we will succeed."

Jubei looked over at Takei, who was sitting impassively. If not for the Word of Blake's assistance, he would not be where he was now. But he also had no illusions about what they were after, and he refused to let the Blakists control the Combine through him. It was, on the surface, an alliance of convenience. But he was locked in a struggle for nothing less than the Dragon's soul, and Jubei knew that a single misstep would be fatal. But he still needed their aid, which was why he not moved against them yet.

_Who, _Jubei thought, _will backstab the other first?_

"Are the operatives ready?" Precentor Takei Inamoto asked in the safety of the HPG station on Luthien. The office formerly belonged to a Comstar Precentor, who of course had been 'removed' following Jubei's ascension to the Dragon Throne.

His aide Adept Toure replied, "Yes, sir. They are prepared for the mission."

Inamoto nodded. "Then tell them to proceed."

His aide tapped out a few commands on his wristcomp, then waited expectantly.

"Adept, is there anything else?" Inamoto snapped. The man was supposed to get out after being given his orders.

"Uh sir, I would like to know why you would want to kill Minoru Kurita and frame the Black Dragons for the deed. I thought we were on their side. Killing their Oathmaster would only enrage the Nova Cats and bring their wrath onto Jubei Kurita. That's not what we want."

"You know too little, Adept, and you're not thinking with your brain," said Inamoto. "I _want_ the Nova Cats to fight the Black Dragons."

"Why?"

"Blake demands that all the players in this conflict be drained of their vigour. By having the Nova Cats fight the Black Dragons, more of the Combine's people will also forgo their neutral stance and take up arms against the clan. As a simple analogy, let's take Hohiro's side to be at strength 5, and the Black Dragons to be at strength 4. The Nova Cats are at strength 2. If the Nova Cats help Hohiro, their combined strength would be 7, and that should mean that they would win rather easily, right?"

Toure's brow furrowed in puzzlement as he tried to reason his way through the problem. "Yes, I would think so."

"Wrong!" Inamoto emphasised his answer with a slash of his right hand. "The Black Dragons would gain strength as well from those who would nominally support Hohiro, but hate the clanners, and they'll not be 4 any more, maybe a 5, or even a 6 in terms of strength."

"So that means…"

"They'll bleed all the more for their sins… and it will be easier for the Word of Blake to redeem them when the time is right."

Light dawned in Toure's eyes. "I see! Thank you for enlightening me, Precentor."

Inamoto nodded indulgently. "Blake's will be done."

"Blake's will be done." Toure repeated before he left the office.

_And the moment for fulfilling his will is getting closer, _Inamoto noted with satisfaction. _The Free Worlds League is next. Such a pity we couldn't capture Isis Marik here. She would have made such a useful puppet against the False One._

Inamoto began to laugh, and anybody that might have heard him would have been chilled to the bone.

Well, that's it for this chapter! Whew, I never thought I was going to finish it; it was that long!

I had thought about inserting some mech action into the start, but because the chapter would have gotten really, really long, I left it out. As it is, the chapter was really long for what I wanted to put into it. And it certainly took me long enough! I had the chapter near completion, then my laptop had to die on me…

Then after that, all my time was taken up by my absurdly short(3 months from proposal to thesis) Honours project on the synthesis of single molecule magnets(I was so damn close to success; but I did get a useful precursor, which had never existed before…), 'normal' projects, and tests. And the tests are really killer, and not just because they were difficult. Let me give you an example.

A 50 point question on capillary electrophoresis has 10 parts. Each part is 5 points. However, the lecturer would give only 4 marks for a correct answer for each part… The most a student could get for the whole question was 40 marks, even if he had answered everything correctly.

See what I'm fighting against? And why the university I'm in is known as 'Hell' for those of us who study there? I've heard too many stories of foreign students coming here on exchange programs only to stay for one semester, because they were tired of failing. A 'C' here is probably worth an 'A' elsewhere. My country sends the cream of the elite overseas to the really prestigious institutions, and the dregs pay their own way for their 'bought' degrees, while the near elite(like me) suffer and struggle to attain some modicum of success.

GRRRRRRR…

Anyway, here's to my reviewers. Thanks to Takiro for the Sun Dragon concept, and Marwynn for using his Storm Angels. I had to run this chapter by him first. After all, I think he doesn't want them wiped out by the jihad either!

**Not So Nice Guy**: Well, it took long enough. Please don't lynch me!

**Tangmeister**: Well… the Jaguar problem is going to throw a real spanner in the works!

**Prof Larsen**: The Union and Overlord aren't Lyran designs. In fact, it's the Capellans who designed it long ago. It quickly became a standard transport all over the Inner Sphere for mech units. According to Objective Raids, Avon produced both, and since TRO: 3067 didn't say where the Nekohono'O was made, Avon seemed like a perfect choice.

**Marwynn**: Where's your own fic? Stop wasting time squabbling with the Snow Cravens on cbt.com! Hehehehehe…

**Aeain**: Oops. No mech action here. I'll make it up later.

**Shank**: Needs to be longer?!? o_- So, is 14000 words long enough?

**Sphinx**: Oooohhh, I always leave the best tidbits at the end of every chapter! ^_^

**Valefore**: Thanks! As for the new mechs, especially the Wobblie ones, well, they'll be debuting soon, as will the design below!

**Ayce Shade**: I'll comment on your story as soon as possible. Looks like the section is particularly busy these days!

**Matt6**: You're welcome!

**Travis Grant**: Sometimes, I wonder if the clans and Inner Sphere could just decide on a single name for the original 16 omnimechs… and save everybody else the trouble.

**Eddy_s**: If I read Charette correctly, Tomoe Sakade was based on the historical Tomoe Gozen.

**Mbwun**: Please! Don't hang me!!!

**The OgeeBoogie Man**: Heh. Working on it.

**Frankenstein Jr**: Yeah, I am such a plagiarizer. But you know what they say: Copying from one source is plagiarism, but copying from a variety of course is research!

**Panzerfaust 150**: I hope the question of Minoru has been answered in this chapter!

**Duo**: What's this obsession with assault mechs?!? Dude, they might be tactically useful, but strategically, using them is extremely difficult. Descartin's next mech will be a bit different, as you will see…

Next chapter brings us back to Landsmark. Frank is still in transit to Terra(just a few more jumps!). Descartin's next chapter will be on Irece, where we'll meet some old friends!

And for this chapter's mech design, here's the _Loup Garou_. A vicious clan trooper mech. Doesn't look like much, but don't be fooled by its BV, cost, or tonnage. It can beat almost any mech that's less than 70 tons.

Type/Model:    Loup Garou 

Tech:          Clan / 3070

Config:        Biped BattleMech

Rules:         Level 2, Standard design

Mass:          60 tons

Chassis:       Arc-Royal KH/5 Endo Steel

Power Plant:   300 Vlar Fusion

Walking Speed: 54.0 km/h

Maximum Speed: 86.4 km/h

Jump Jets:     None

Jump Capacity: 0 meters

Armor Type:    Forging ZK89 Ferro-Fibrous Ferro-Fibrous 

Armament:      

  2 Kolibri Delta Series Large Pulse Lasers

  3 General Systems Heavy Medium Lasers

  1 Arc Cloak ECM Suite

Manufacturer:  Various

  Location:    Arc Royal

Communications System:  Tek BattleCom

Targeting & Tracking System:  ARC 93 with Targeting Computer 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

==Overview:==

With the end of the Federated Commonwealth Civil War, Archon Peter Steiner and

Grand Duke Morgan Kell found themselves with a serious problem.

The various battles of the Civil War and the Jade Falcon Incursion had

inflicted massive casualties on the units fronting the Jade Falcon border. To

make matters worse, many of their most important units are mercenaries, and

almost all of them had been severely abused in the fighting. Barber's

Marauders and Storm's Metal Thunder had been wiped out; the Blue Star

Irregulars had lost a regiment's worth of men; many other units like the Grave

Walkers and Brion's Legion had also taken serious losses.

In order to shore up their flagging defenses, help out the mercenaries under

their employ, and also to entice yet more mercenary units to fight under the

Lyran banner, the Archon, along with the Grand Duke and Khan Phelan Kell, came

up with their brainchild, the Loup Garou, using clan technology brought in by

the Wolves in Exile.

Since its inception, the Loup Garou has been routed to all of the Lyran

Commonwealth's mercenary and regular units on the clan border.

Extremely well received, the design is fast earning a reputation amongst the

Jade Falcons as a vicious contender on the ground. Even the Diamond Sharks on

Twycross have come asking the Wolves in Exile and Kell Hounds for plans for

the mech; they estimate production of the design at Trellshire Heavy

Industries to start in a year's time.

==Capabilities:==

In many ways a bigger, better Wolfhound upgraded with cutting edge clan

weaponry, the Loup Garou is an incredibly simple yet effective combat design.

Its amazingly low cost makes it even more attractive to mercenary units. Meant

for general frontline combat as well as heavy raiding, the Loup Garou can

fulfil either role well.

In fact, the design uses an upscaled version of the Wolfhound's KH chassis,

modified with the clan grade endo steel that is rapidly being brought into

production in the Arc Royal Theatre's various orbital manufacturing

facilities.

Its armor protection is ferro fibrous armor, also of clan quality. While this

might be a problem, Khan Kell initially assured that the supply of the armor

will be adequate.

In the end, it turned out the Diamond Sharks at Twycross were more than

willing to sell, which neatly solves the supply problem. Twycross' central

position on the border doesn't hurt; the Diamond Sharks are making a booming

business out of selling weapons and tech to all buyers on the edgy front(Come

one, come all! Enough guns for you to blow each oth... I mean, your enemies

up!).

Speed for the Loup Garou was adequate for its weight class, and Morgan Kell

consciously used a standard Vlar engine available from Edasich Motors in order

to keep costs down.

Maintainence is easy for the techs, and duty on Loup Garous are highly sought

after(No, it's my turn today!).

The Loup Garou's weapons consists of just two weapon types, clan large pulse

lasers and heavy lasers, all tied to a targeting computer. The targeting

computer was added in after the mercenary consultants on the project mentioned

that most of the new mechwarriors entering their units are likely to be green

recruits fresh out of cheap private schools and academies; they needed every

edge they could get to even hit an immobile target(whaddya mean by NOT hitting

the broad side of a barn?!?).

The large pulse lasers, imported from the Wolves in Exile's facilities on Arc

Royal, provide deadly accurate long range firepower, while the heavy lasers

provide the equivalent of 3 Inner Sphere PPCs at close range. The design

essentially forces opponents to choose one of two evils. Either suffer the

deadly accuracy of the large pulse lasers at long range, or get smashed at

close range by the heavy lasers. An ECM suite provides some electronic warfare

defense, and has proved to be useful in negating clan Narc and Artemis

systems.

The Loup Garou features fully articulated hands on both arms, a concession to

the unique run-and-grab salvage tactics of many mercenaries. The mech has also

been seen on many border worlds helping out in construction when not in

combat. This has proved to be a public relations coup for many mercenary

units(See that spanking new mall? Yup, my boys built that!).

==Battle History:==

The Falcons and the Lyrans on Blair Atholl had arranged two 'training

sessions' per week, and both sides were settling into somewhat of a

routine(warriors from opposing sides would sometimes meet up in bars and have

a drink) when the first Loup Garou arrived, along with a test pilot, and a

whole bevy of engineers and techs desperate to prove the merits of their

design.

Almost immediately during the next 'training session', the Loup Garou piloted

by Star Captain [Classified] brought down three clan heavies in a series of

classic one on one duels. The first one, a Summoner Prime, tried to stay at

long range, but realized that his weapons could hardly hit the target while

those of the Loup Garou's were hitting back relatively easily. He fell when

his mech ran out of LRM and LBX ammo.

The second mech, a Loki C, tried to close in, only to be savaged by the large

pulse lasers, and then torn apart by the heavy mediums. 

The last mech, a Night Gyr, expected little difficulty in putting down the

Loup Garou, which had been badly damaged in the previous fights. As it turned

out, the Night Gyr's pilot is now a bondsman currently cleaning the Wolves in

Exile base mess hall on Blair Atholl.

==Variants:==

One suggested variant replaces the pulse lasers with extended range lasers,

while putting in more heat sinks, to give an extended range combat sniper.

Another easy refit replaces a large pulse laser for a PPC, but problems would

frequently crop up with the targeting computer, which seems unable to handle

three weapons types.

==Deployment==

Loup Garous are deployed all along the Jade Falcon front. Most Lyran mercenary

units on the clan front have at least one Loup Garou, while most Lyran regular

regiments have two.

Khan Kell has also deployed two stars of the mech in his 4th Wolf Guards on

Crimond, while the Kell Hounds field a lance.

--------------------------------------------------------

Type/Model:    Loup Garou 

Mass:          60 tons

Equipment:                                 Crits    Mass

Int. Struct.:  99 pts Endo Steel             7      3.00

 (Endo Steel Loc: 2 LA, 1 RA, 1 LT, 1 RT, 1 LL, 1 RL)

Engine:        300 Fusion                    6     19.00

   Walking MP:   5

   Running MP:   8

   Jumping MP:   0

Heat Sinks:     13 Double [26]               2      3.00

 (Heat Sink Loc: 1 LT)

Gyro:                                        4      3.00

Cockpit, Life Supt.:                         5      3.00

Actuators: L: Sh+UA+LA+H    R: Sh+UA+LA+H   16       .00

Armor Factor:  192 pts Ferro-Fibrous         7     10.00

 (Armor Crit Loc: 2 LA, 1 RA, 1 LT, 1 RT, 1 LL, 1 RL)

                          Internal    Armor

                          Structure   Value

   Head:                      3          9      

   Center Torso:             20         30      

   Center Torso (Rear):                  9      

   L/R Side Torso:           14      20/20      

   L/R Side Torso (Rear):              7/7      

   L/R Arm:                  10      20/20      

   L/R Leg:                  14      25/25      

Weapons and Equipment    Loc  Heat  Ammo   Crits    Mass

--------------------------------------------------------

1 Large Pulse Laser      RA     10           2      6.00

1 Large Pulse Laser      LA     10           2      6.00

1 Heavy Medium Laser     RT      7           2      1.00

1 Heavy Medium Laser     LT      7           2      1.00

1 Heavy Medium Laser     CT      7           2      1.00

1 ECM Suite              HD      0           1      1.00

1 Targeting Computer     RT                  3      3.00

--------------------------------------------------------

TOTALS:                         41          61     60.00

Crits & Tons Left:                          17       .00

Calculated Factors:

Total Cost:        6,261,760 C-Bills

Battle Value:      1,739

Cost per BV:       3,600.78

Weapon Value:      2,202 / 2,202 (Ratio = 1.27 / 1.27)

Damage Factors:    SRDmg = 30;  MRDmg = 20;  LRDmg = 14

BattleForce2:      MP: 5,  Armor/Structure: 5/5

                   Damage PB/M/L: 5/4/2,  Overheat: 2

                   Class: MH;  Point Value: 17

                   Specials: ecm

Deceptively low BV, good mobility, low cost, high efficiency in combat, the _Loup Garou_ tears through medium mechs like a hot knife through butter. Tested extensively using Megamek's bot, this is value for your money!

Also, I've just reworked a great deal of my 3070-Upgrades folder in HMP, and organized the mech designs according to faction and availability. I'll be uploading the zip file to my website soon; watch for it! Also, new designs on the way for TRO:3070 Crusade!


	14. Calderon

_No plan survives contact with the enemy, something which every commander knows. But what happened on Landsmark was simply ridiculous. When everybody and his brother's plan fell apart, somebody up there was definitely laughing his head off. And I don't mean Galaxy Commander Greg Kotare on the _Osis' Pride_. He got his plan scuttled too. Poor all of us._

-Ian Calderon, _Collected Journals_

_Talway Forest, Landsmark,___

_Taurian Concordat, Periphery,___

_23rd September 3068_

It was all or nothing, Subaltern Jenna Doe decided as the infantry troops attached to her company reported contact with enemy units all along the ambush line in the Talway forest.

It had been a grueling week since she had dropped onto Landsmark with two companies of mechs. The two pirate bands jockeyed for position while snipping off pieces from the local militia, all infantry troopers Ian Calderon had deployed forward as tripwire defenders. With the Taurians relatively weak in mech strength compared to the combined forces of the pirates, Ian could not afford to send his own mechs out in anything less than company strength, or else get chewed to pieces by attrition.

Sure, they could have sat in the city and dared either band to attack, while waiting for more reinforcements to arrive, but it also meant that the pirates would have free rein of the areas not under their protection, and the reports of looting and theft had been enough to convince Ian that he had to take an offensive stance.

So he had focused on setting up a trap, making rapier thrusts against the _Shen Se Tian_ dropships with his own mechs. All of those quick strikes accomplished little, of course, often forced to turn back when pirate patrols headed them off. Ian made sure the returning mechs used the same route back to their own base every time, as well as making them maintain the same pace, all to lure the pirates into thinking they could head off the thrusts _and _intercept the Taurian mechs on their way back, claiming a lance of Taurian mechs. This was the fourth time they had tried it, and Ian was sure the pirates would jump soon.

And today, the pirates had finally taken the bait. The plan called for the strike mechs to head off into the forest when they were cut off on their direct line of retreat. The pirates weren't idiots either, and had deployed another 2 lances near the forest to trap the escaping Taurian mechs. But they had lacked advanced sensors or scouts, and that was all the difference.

What they _didn't_ know were the 2 companies of mechs Ian had assembled in the forest right behind them waiting for the balance of the Shen Se Tian to arrive in hot pursuit of the strike mechs, Cornet Claxton's lance of an _Assassin_, _Clint_, _Valkyrie_, and _Garm_ each from 2nd Coy. It was a great deal of effort just to get a lance of mechs with more than a company for the pirates, but that was the way the cut-and-thrust style of modern warfare was all about. Just as Ian had slyly moved and mixed his units around to confuse both pirate bands. In this case, they had been waiting in the forest for 2 days already.

_This is the old game of 'I know he knows I know'. And this time, we're ahead of them_, Jenna grinned as she brought her systems to full power. The _Centurion_ brought up one giant foot, and lurched upright from its crouching position. All around her mechs were stirring from their mechanical sleep as she ran over her systems again.

_Rotary autocannon. Check._

_LRM launcher. Check._

_Extended range lasers. Check._

_C3 master system. Connecting to slave units. Check._

_Hunting time_, Jenna thought as Panis' _Phoenix Hawk_ jumped into the sky on flaring jets. She brought up her autocannon, and prepared to engage the nearest enemy mech, a _Marauder_.

The Shen Se Tian mechs reacted quickly to the sudden appearance of the Red Chasseurs, shifting their own waiting ambush line northwards away from the balance of her force, while firing on Claxton's mechs, which were desperately evading enemy shots.

"All units, engage!" She heard Ian Calderon bark out, and the Taurian mechs burst into action.

Jenna saw Ian Calderon's _Awesome_ step out from behind cover, and unleash a tremendous salvo at a poor _Brigand_, the heavy gauss slug shearing through one of the mech's limbs.

She stroked her own trigger, and the RAC/5, aided by the telemetry from Panis' _Phoenix Hawk_, slammed shell after shell into the bulbous torso of the _Marauder_, even as the tremors from the rotary autocannon's incredible recoil could be felt all the way to her shuddering control sticks. Jenna also fired her LRMs, the missiles missing low and splattering the _Marauder_ with massive sods of wet dirt.

The _Marauder _hit back, the PPC bolts just barely missing her cockpit as they passed by overhead. Jenna cursed as she realized the _Marauder_ was aiming for the _Centurion_'s head. _Freebirth!_

Ever since she had met Daniela Mattlov, Jenna had found herself slowly slipping back into her old speech patterns again. Even so, she still wanted to laugh at the thought of herself being a clanner once, a brutal Smoke Jaguar. It was simply impossible!

But nothing else explained the way she talked.

Jenna had met amnesia experts, hordes of psychologists, all hired by Milton Hawkings, but in the end, she did not care. She was a mechwarrior now, she liked her present life, she had hopes for the future. What did her past matter?

But as she fired another salvo at the _Marauder_, an unfamiliar thought came unbidden to her mind, whispering in her head. _Crush your foes without mercy, enjoy the sight of their blood. You are Smoke Jaguar. _She welcomed the voice, allowing it to lend her ferocity and courage in the fight, washing away her fear and concern for Milton, who was still missing when her Trolls managed to retake the _Farstrider_.

Jenna began to react even faster than ever before, all her concentration on the battle, even as she started to see strange images appearing before her eyes. Images that belonged to another time, another place, another battle.

Ian Calderon grimly held the _Awesome_ upright, withstanding a series of laser beams from the _Brigand_'s lancemates. The _Brigand_ itself was a pile of junk on the floor after he had eviscerated it with his weapons.

The Shen Se Tian pirates were in trouble, and they knew it. They were trying to disengage all along the line, trying to put out enough suppressive fire to force his combined force away. But he had 2 full companies, plus Claxton's skirmish lance, to their 18 mechs. It was 28 to 18, and he intended to press his temporary advantage for all it was worth.

The _Banshee_ pilot captured from the initial battle had croaked up a great deal of useful information, including the exact mechs and configurations used by the Shen Se Tian raiders. Further interrogation by Benny confirmed what Jenna later told him. It was indeed a trap for the Shen Se Tian.

Ian had been half tempted to sit out the rest of the conflict, but his sense of responsibility had overridden his anger. Even though he was a merc, he was still a Taurian by birth. He might not be their ruler, but the ties of blood and history between his family and the Concordat were too strong for him to abandon it just like that. If anything, it was all Brenda's fault for purposely making him make such a choice, if it was even a choice at all.

Much less was known about the other pirate group, other that they were known as the Syphon Blades. All they had to go on was that the group had two companies of mechs, was extremely well equipped with several advanced technology machines, and even some omnimechs.

The Blades had acted much like a typical pirate band since their landing, feinting and pushing at the city and the militia base. But Ian couldn't shake the feeling that the Blades were only play acting. Their real target was him.

But hunches and gut feelings were no basis for any course of action, and so Ian had no choice but to operate on the deadly assumption that the Blades were just another pirate band out to steal and pillage whatever they can.

To prevent their interference in his ambush, Ian had arranged for several supply depots to be set up outside the city while lightly defended by a few sections of foot infantry. He was practically inviting the Blades to attack the depots and run off with the supplies in glee. He considered the potential loss of more than a hundred tons of ammunition and spare parts a small price to pay for the opportunity to take out the Shen Se Tian. After all, most of the spare parts were for militia mechs that had been transferred out, and ammunition was the one thing in excess supply after his father's reign of paranoia.

The salvaged _Banshee_ and the rest of the militia force except his command lance had stayed around the militia base to deter the Blades from attacking the base or the city. They would not win any battle against 2 full companies, of course, but Ian trusted them to delay the Blades for the Chasseurs to abandon their ambush and get back to the base. He hoped it would not come to that, relying on the age-old pirate mentality of going for easy loot.

Additionally, he had deployed roving teams of infantry scouts at locations around the continent, where they would warn him of enemy movements. But if his guess was right, the Syphon Blades had their own foot scouts out, and hunting _his_ scouts.

Ian resisted the urge to sigh. He'd rather be facing the one-track minded drones back on Einstein than tricky, devious fellow human beings. And he wished Jenna had brought along her aerospace lance instead of leaving them back in space for the attempt to recapture the _Farstrider_.

His _Awesome_ pummeled a _Blackjack_, dropping it to the ground with a few well placed shots right in the breadbasket, shattering the medium mech. The _Blackjack_ plot ejected from his doomed mech just before its reactor exploded, spewing out a burst of deadly plasma. Ian stepped his mech back from the frontline, taking the time to survey the situation.

The ambush had gone extremely well. Better than he had hoped, in fact. The Shen Se Tian had lost almost two entire lances in the initial rush, even as he had crushed Cornet Claxton's lance. Ian tried hard to ignore the feeling he had sent Claxton and his men out to die, but it was difficult, even if they had volunteered for the duty. It was simply the lonely burden of command. Ian hoped the lance had managed to eject from their mechs.

He spied Daniela's blocky _Masakari_ stabbing out with its PPCs at a battered _Zeus_, which staggered backwards with the loss of so much armor to the powerful manmade lightning. Even though it was firing back, the _Zeus_ didn't look like it could possibly survive another 30 seconds, and as Xie contributed his own laser and LRM fire from his _Men Shen_, Ian was sure that part of the battle was a foregone conclusion. There was no need to tell the troops what to do. All that was left for them was to kill as many of the pirates as possible. _Stay safe, Daniela_, Ian thought, then he went back to the battle.

He rested his targeting reticule over a towering _Atlas_, and was almost going to shoot when his comms came to life. The next words he heard made his blood run cold.

"Bull Five! This is Scoot!" Scoot was the code for one of his scouts. And the trooper sounded pained, as though he was wounded. "There are enemy mechs in your rear! THERE ARE ENEMY MECHS IN YOUR…" The transmission was cut off.

He moved his _Awesome_ back, glancing at his radar screen in fear. Nothing._ If they have an ECM unit with them, of course they would be hidden on radar!_ Ian recognized the gnawing tension in his stomach as a sign that the shit was about to hit the fan.

"Bug Five, take your lance to Zulu Four Niner," he ordered the recon lance of Jenna's company, commanded by Cornet Lewis, which was also already one mech short, "And keep your eyes open!"

"Bull Five, what is happening?" Jenna asked.

"We might have uninvited visitors to the party." Ian replied through gritted teeth as he watched the Shen Se Tian bunker down as fire from his units slacked off due to the sudden absence of an entire lance from the skirmish line.

"Contact!" Cornet Lewis screamed. "Bogeys in Yamaha Four Six! Two companies! We're taking heavy fire!" _That's our rear_, Ian thought glumly, _we'll be hamburger meat patty between two forces!_

"All mech units, break off and proceed to Whiskey Three Two!" Ian shouted, adrenaline pumping through his veins, even as he vainly tried to place the Syphon Blades on his radar. That move should place the Taurians at the apex of a rough triangle with the other two apexes being the pirate groups. It should also take enough heat off his troops for him to decide on their next move. "Pounder Five, keep your men in cover!" The infantry, scattered in various section-sized groups around the forest, would be dead meat if they tried movement on open ground.

A volley of emerald and azure laser bolts blindsided a Taurian _Crusader_, slamming into and past the armor plates, molten crimson alloy dripping down the mech's wounded flanks like blood. The _Crusader _died a moment later when a spread of LRMs flew into its open left side, setting off the ammunition stocks there. The mech exploded into smithereens; it was an old model without CASE. The pilot didn't eject.

_Clan tech_, Ian cursed when he turned his head and saw no less than 3 clan omnimechs amongst the rampaging Blades. Then he saw a tiny beaked shape moving swiftly across the ground, hunkering down behind a large outcropping of rock. A _Raven_. _No wonder my sensors didn't pick up anything._

The Taurian mechs recoiled from the assault against their rear, but Ian and his subordinates managed to prevent panic in the ranks by snapping quick commands to individual troops. By forcing their soldiers to focus on their immediate tasks, they also did not allow them to dwell on the deterioration of the entire situation.

But things were still looking bad. Very bad.

Hadden snarled as his _Battlemaster _followed close behind Siphus' _Executioner_, doling out blasts from his PPC at any Taurian mech that he could see.

_Where is the stravag enemy ECM? _Hadden cursed, then grinned as he saw the telltale lack of radar information over a certain section of the Taurian mechs. _Ahah!_ He gauged the center to be at or about the position of the enemy _Thunderbolt_.

He placed his cursor over the heavy mech, and sent his full arsenal of weapons at it. Only the PPC hit, flensing armor off a leg, while laser beams and missiles flew everywhere else. Heat rushed into his cockpit, but Hadden did not mind that, not the fact that he had connected with low percentages. It was actually a signal.

The other 9 clan mechwarriors in the pirate group started firing at the _Thunderbolt_, all of them aiming low or to the sides, switching targets every so often to give the impression that they were fully engaged. But Hadden knew the truth. They needed the enemy mech's ECM, but they needed the mech relatively neutralized as well. Take out a leg and an arm, and the mech would be crippled.

Siphus had never really trusted the clan warriors he had captured out in the Periphery. Consequently, he had assigned them to mechs with rigged explosives in the cockpit, which would be activated by radio signals from either him or the _Raven_ pilot if they betray him. Since the enemy ECM would block all signals from their mechs, it also meant that if they stayed near the _Thunderbolt_, Siphus would not be able to blow them up.

Of course, this was not the first time they had faced forces with ECM, but then again, they had no reason to really rebel against Siphus. Until now.

Siphus had led them into the rear of the Taurian defenders, forgoing the chance to grab some easy supplies from the depots Ian Calderon had set up as distractions. They had their contract to kill Ian Calderon, and Siphus was determined to fulfill it. Not for the first time, Hadden wondered who their employer was. It would not matter now.

A few miles away, several Jaguar warriors and lower caste personnel were hidden in a small village with supplies and ammunition. The plan called for his warriors to strike at Siphus when the time was right, and then pulling out of the battle and head to the village so that they could remove the explosives from their cockpits. The _Osis' Pride _would be arriving in a week, along with more than enough firepower, mechs, fighters and elementals to flatten everybody they did not like.

From one corner of his eye, Hadden watched as Siphus' _Executioner_ dueled with the enemy _Awesome_, which they had identified as Calderon's mech. From the looks of things, Calderon was a superior mech pilot, managing to keep his lighter mech in the fight against Siphus.

Gauss slugs, PPC bolts, laser beams, and missiles were exchanged as the pirates pressed the attack, savaging the Taurian mechs. Hadden noticed a _Centurion_ gamely fighting against Vecar's _Grasshopper_, tearing apart the heavier mech's armor with its rotary autocannon and lasers. Vecar struck back, but the _Centurion _ignored the damage as it closed in.

Hadden did not know why, but the movement of the _Centurion_ seemed so familiar…

Jenna shook her head again to remove the images crowding her sight, but it was useless. She continued to bark orders at her troops while maintaining her fire on the _Grasshopper_, but she was also beginning to hear voices that she was sure did not exist.

Her HUD showed the _Grasshopper_'s image, but why was there a white _Guillotine_ superimposed on it? As she fired on the _Grasshopper_, she also saw the _Guillotine_ stagger from the impact of her weapons fire.

She heard Ian say, "All mechs, retrograde. Pull back to the city. We've done enough to the Shen Se Tian, but the Blades are pressing us hard."

But she also heard the voice, _"Star Captain Furey, this is Star Colonel Showers. Pull back to the dropships! You have command now! Get the rest of the cluster out!"_

Jenna didn't know if she was going mad.

Subaltern Hurgens did not seem to hear Calderon as he moved his _Marauder_ nearer the Blades, heedless of the fire he was taking from both the Shen Se Tian and the Blades. "Negative, sir! We can hold! We _will_ hold!"

Then his defiant words were echoed. _"This is Star Captain Fiob! We shall defeat these barbarians, I swear it! Swift Death Trinary, do not retreat!"_

Jenna shouted at her fellow Subaltern, "Actor Five, pull back! The Blades will tear you apart! We need every mech!" But she also heard at the same time other words.

_"Fiob! Pull back, you stravag, or I will kill you in a circle of equals! The Com Guards will destroy you easily! The clan needs every mech!"_

Her _Centurion_ shook like a rag doll as a _Griffin_ backed up the battered _Grasshopper_, firing a swarm of missiles at her. The LRMs ripped through armor and internal structure as they sought out her mech's innards, and Jenna watched in dismay as the C3 master computer's status light blinked off, indicating damage to the expensive unit. Her engine display lights also began to glow yellow, and smoke puffed out from below her cockpit from the _Centurion_'s shattered chest. The heat in her cockpit began to rise, slowly but inexorably.

The rotary autocannon stammered and whirred into silence as she fired off her last few rounds of ammunition for the autocannon. The _Grasshopper_ came on still, intent on claiming her. But in her mind's eye, Jenna could only see the _Guillotine_, shrugging off hit after hit from her mech.

She gritted her teeth, firing her remaining weapons for all they were worth. An infantry platoon fired on the _Griffin_ with their shoulder mounted SRMs, tearing at its armor. A pirate _Striker_ cut loose with its autocannon, and Jenna's stomach churned as she recognized the flechette slivers ripping through flesh and bone. The screams should not be audible through the cockpit glass over the roar of stomping mech feet and thunderous explosions, but Jenna thought she heard them anyway.

The infantry platoon was disintegrated in a shower of blood and gore. Much like an elemental point caught by an artillery barrage…

Then her mech lurched, and a terrible screaming sound emanated from below her. Knowing that her mech was doomed, Jenna grabbed the ejection handle under her seat and pulled hard. The seat burst free of the cockpit, but the explosive bolts did not blow away the top of the cockpit away cleanly. Her head hit a jagged piece of metal, and that was the last thing she knew.

"Hadden, what are you doing?" Siphus shouted at his subordinate. Hadden's _Battlemaster_ was unloading on a _Thunderbolt _for all it was worth, but his shots were only hitting the limbs. "Help me with this damn _Awesome_!" Calderon was a tough customer, and even in his clan made _Gladiator_, Siphus didn't know if he could win the duel. He needed help, and he needed it now.

"Aff, commander!" Hadden turned his mech, and fired his PPC at the _Awesome_, which passed uselessly between its legs just below the mech's torso assembly.

"You idiot!" Siphus cursed as the _Awesome_ fired again, the heavy gauss slug punching into the _Gladiator_'s legs. Siphus managed to keep his mech upright, but only just. He replied with his own gauss rifle and lasers, but they seemed pitiful compared to the heavy gauss and PPCs of the _Awesome_.

He was beginning to regret taking the bounty on Ian Calderon's head. It was supposed to be a cakewalk. Just jump in, capture the _Farstrider_, kill Calderon, and then proceed to the planet for a bit of loot to make it seem like a real prate raid instead of an assassination.

But the whole thing was botched from the start. Calderon was not on the _Farstrider_, he was on Landsmark. There was another pirate group in the system. Fine, so Siphus had sent his band to Landsmark to take care of Calderon.

Only for two companies of Red Chasseurs to suddenly show up. His _Scout_-class Jumpship _Drawback_ was lost to the Taurians a few days ago, as was the _Farstrider_. There were a few attempted negotiations by the Taurians to get Milton Hawkings back, but they had broken down every time, despite threats to kill Hawkings. They knew well that the matter could only be decided by force of arms, not negotiating.

In the end, there was only one way out that Siphus could see, and that was by killing Calderon and stomping the rest of the defending force flat. And then he'll hold the entire world's populace hostage to get back the _Drawback_, and maybe the _Farstrider_ as well as additional payment for his troubles. To hell with Eric Sunds if the man protested about his actions.

Problem was, Calderon wasn't cooperating by moving deeper into the forest and preventing the Blades from concentrating fire on him. Also, the _Awesome_ was living up to its name, tearing his own _Gladiator_ apart piece by piece, and Siphus wasn't eager to bring his mech any closer to the _Awesome_ after eating a heavy gauss slug that punctured his right torso with just one blow. Siphus didn't know what Calderon had did to the _Awesome_ to get that sort of performance and firepower, but it was one sick machine.

Siphus engaged the _Gladiator_'s jump jets to get some distance away from the _Awesome_, and took the opportunity to take a better look at the entire situation. He had never been completely comfortable using his radar, and in the current mess of conflicting ECM, radar was almost useless. Far better to jump and take stock of the situation by actually looking at the positions of each mech involved.

What he saw wasn't very good, but it wasn't bad either. A company of the remaining Taurian mechs had stood their ground despite being outgunned and outnumbered by the Shen Se Tian and his Blades, and were being destroyed one by one. His own remaining warriors were pummeling the Taurians and the Shen Se Tian, who had been whittled down to just 2 lances and pulling out of the battle after they realized the Blades were in no mood to share.

Then he noticed Hadden near the _Thunderbolt_, which was finally missing an arm, a leg, and lying on the ground, when he should be engaging the _Awesome_. And around him were the other Smoke Jaguar bondsmen. All of them. They raised their weapons at him, and Siphus stared down the barrels of a dozen guns.

_What the… _That was Siphus' last thought before his _Gladiator_ was vaporized by the combined fire of the Smoke Jaguar mechs.

Ian stared at his screen in confusion as he tried to extricate what was left of his command from the bloody battlefield. Subaltern Hurgens' company was almost dead, as was Jenna's own command lance, which she had used to try to hold open the door for Hurgens' company to get out. But her effort and her men had been wasted by the Hurgens' stubbornness. Her own _Centurion _was down, its engine cored by overwhelming damage.

Ian hoped Jenna had managed to eject successfully. Unlike the clans and the Houses, the Taurians did not have equipment on their ejection seats to indicate the health status of their occupants, nor rescue beacons to call for help.

Now, the infighting between the Blades confused him utterly. From what he could see on his HUD, they had split into two groups, one in a tight clump around Mechwarrior Tessa's downed _Thunderbolt_, and the other group scattered throughout the woods firing at the first even as they pulled back.

Ian was tempted to commit his forces to take the group still in the scattered woods, but he also knew that both the Shen Se Tian and the other part of the Blades were still waiting. It had turned from a 2 way fight into a 3 way, then finally a 4 way. Ian swore vehemently, not knowing what other surprises were still in store for him.

He had enough. Most of his mechs were severely damaged, and continuing the battle would only leave the Shen Se Tian free to claim the spoils of Landsmark. He had only 9 very battered mechs left from the 28 he had started with. His own command lance had survived, though Daniela's _Masakari_ was missing an arm, and Benny's _Daishi_ had a nicked engine. Xie Xun's _Men Shen_ was in relatively good shape, while his own _Awesome_ was almost in tatters. There was no way he was going to take the field from the Blades left in the forest.

"Pull back to base." The words were like ashes in his mouth. Ian noted that Daniela did not even complain this time, instead leading the way with her battered _Masakari_, while he brought up the rear. The few remaining infantry and the few surviving mechwarriors that had managed to eject limped along the mechs dejectedly.

Only a _Blackjack_ had survived from Hurgen's company, while Jenna's 1st Coy had a _P-Hawk_, a _Whitworth_, an _Archer_, and a _Jagermech_ left. As they marched back to their base, Ian wondered how he was going to explain the debacle to Brenda Calderon.

But it did confirm one thing, especially after the way the _Gladiator_ and the rest of the Blades had gone after him. _Somebody wants me dead._

She shook her head, groaning at the pain at her temples and her neck. The warrior automatically clutched at the straps holding her in place on the ejection seat, even while she tried hard to remember what had happened to her.

The last thing she remembered was the dark, damp cell, her limbs held in chains, and a dirty unkempt man leaning over her as he took advantage of her body. She had fallen unconscious then as he had climaxed in her, his tool a stiff rod ravaging her insides…

_Stravag! _The female warrior swore bitterly. In fact, there had been a whole line of those filthy, unwashed freebirths. She had cursed, kicked, and screamed throughout the entire ordeal, but none of them had cared. They took their pleasure and they left, leaving her broken and battered.

So why was she now in a forest in a decidedly primitive mechwarrior combat suit and neurohelmet, strapped into an ejection seat that reeked of Inner Sphere technology? What in the name of Kerensky was going on?

The Star Captain managed to find the clasp for the straps, and released herself from the ejection seat. She stood up from the seat, and stared round the forest, stunned at the carnage around her.

Burning mechs and broken metal shards laid everywhere. Groans of pain from the wounded and dying filled the air, piercing through the crackling sound of burning myomer. She reveled in the sight, the sound, and the smell. There had been a battle here!

The warrior took the time to check herself for injuries. In the course of her self assessment, she could not help but notice that her butt looked… bigger. In fact, her entire body was fatter, less toned, even if she was sure it was her own body, because the scars she remembered from her sibko days were in the right places! And she didn't feel any pain in her vagina at all, which had been a constant from the rapes. Strange.

There were two strange insignia she found on her cooling vest. One symbol showed a bull's head and some stars, while the other showed a burning flame. She did not know what was going on, but she was going to find out.

Searching the ejection seat yielded a survival knife, a projectile rifle and a slug pistol, plus several packets of rations, a canteen of tepid water, and a medical set. She holstered the pistol in her belt, and slung the rifle over one shoulder. The rations, water canteen and medical set she carried in a small bag that she had found in one of the seat's compartments.

She discarded the bulky cooling vest, leaving her clad only in a flimsy shirt and shorts. It would not do for the toxic coolant to enter her bloodstream if she was hit by weapons fire. Besides, it would also slow her down. She threw away the bulky neurohelmet for the same reason.

Having prepared herself, she started moving towards the nearest sound, which she recognized to be a person alternately screaming and gasping loudly, probably from injuries sustained. She crept carefully beside the trees to the location of the sound, taking care not to be seen or heard.

She peeked around a tree to see a groaning man strapped into an ejection seat. His left arm was attached to his body by only several strands of muscle. "Kill me! Kill me! Stop the pain! Please!" The man was screaming.

_Weakling_, she thought as she stealthily walked up to the man, her knife in her right hand. _If you wish to die, freebirth, I will oblige you._ She stepped up behind the man, and before he knew it, she had sliced the edge across his throat. It was, she decided, a mercy for the man, and probably more than he deserved. His cooling vest was even more primitive than the one she had been wearing, and he looked unwashed, much like the pirates who had raped her.

She had expected to get information out of the man, but the way he was screaming indicated that there was no way she could have gotten anything out of him. She sheathed the knife after cleaning it on a leaf, and was about to continue when she saw movement out from one corner of her eye.

Raising her rifle up to alert position, she moved beside and behind a tree for some cover. Just then, a whiff of smoke conveniently obscured her position.

"Who is there?" A man shouted, "Come on out!"

She remained silent.

"Hadden, I have a problem." The man spoke, obviously into a comm piece.

_Hadden? _She thought. Hadden was one of her Star Commanders. If he was around, then he was probably looking for her. Had she been rescued from the pirate camp?

Taking a risk, she stepped out from behind the tree and past the smoke, her rifle aimed in the man's general direction. She halted as she saw the man, shocked. And the man stared back at her, just as shocked as she was.

It was Warrior Cagis, but he looked so much older. She remembered him in his mid thirties, almost ready for the solahma heap, but he still had a head of black hair then. Now, it was streaked with gray. _Did he dye his hair to look older? _She wondered before dismissing the ludicrous thought immediately. No clan warrior would ever want to look older!

"Star Captain?" The older warrior asked first, disbelief plain in his voice.

"Cagis," she said authoritatively, "Report!"

Cagis did not respond, staring at her blankly. She strode up to him, and punched him hard in the face. Cagis went down hard, but he remained on the ground like an idiot with blood streaming down his nose. And he was still staring at her as if he had seen a ghost.

"What is going on?" Hadden burst onto the scene with a submachine gun in his hands, then stopped, also in shock as he stared at her. "What the… How?" He stammered. Leloni noted that Hadden also looked older. Quite a bit older.

She raised her pistol, fired several shots into a sky, and shouted angrily, "Can somebody tell me what in the Founder's name is going on before I kill the lot of you?"

Milton Hawkings grunted, trying to press himself deeper into the metal floor as gunfire erupted all around him. He had been placed in the cargo bay, and waiting eagerly for meal time when a tech had suddenly used a metal wrench to beat in the brains of a nearby guard. The tech then grabbed the guard's gun and proceeded to spray submachine gun fire over the entire dropship bay.

All hell broke loose, and Milton had dove down to the floor behind a crate almost immediately. He prayed hard for all the bullets to miss him, while taking an occasional glance upwards. _Maybe this is the chance for me to escape!_

Milton started crawling towards the open bay door on his hands and knees, but was hindered by the ropes around his wrists and ankles. He looked around for something sharp with which he could use to cut his bonds, and spotted a throwaway piece of mech armor plate. It had obviously been taken off a damaged mech, as it had jagged sharp edges on the sides. Perfect for cutting rope.

Inching his way slowly to the armor plate, Milton noticed that the battle had only increased in intensity, and he could barely hear the shouts of the various personnel as they warred in the tight confines of the bay. Suddenly, a massive explosion shook the entire bay for a moment, and he guessed somebody must had set off a volatile ammunition load. The downside of that was his hearing was blown away for the time being as well. He could not even hear the battle.

_Never mind, I just need to get free! _He started working on the wrist ropes, gingerly placing them against the armor plate and sawing as fast as he dared without cutting his own wrists. In moments his hands were free, and he was able to turn around and cut his legs free.

With full mobility, Milton peeked over a crate. Both sides were blazing away, but one side was clearly preparing to leave, commandeering several jeeps and trucks as they fired back at the other group.

If what he had heard that night in the cell was true, then Hadden had carried out his little mutiny, and this was part of it. Milton thought hard about how he might be able to exploit the situation to his advantage.

Then he stopped thinking when a tech suddenly appeared beside him, a gun barrel pressed against his head. Then the man spoke, and Milton realized his hearing had returned. Strange that he didn't notice the gunfire, which was still going on as ferociously as ever.

"Hey, Hawkings," said the tech, "I see you have gotten free. We know how much you had heard in the prison cell, unlike the other prisoners. Hadden wants me to bring you along, or else you'll squeal all our plans to the surat Blades. And we can't have that, can we?"

"Uh, no." He had no choice. He could try taking the gun away from the man, but Milton knew he was in no shape to do so. Hell, he could barely see clearly past his own bruised face.

The man gestured with his gun, "All right, come along now. It'll be easier to put a bullet in your head now, but you might still be useful, so don't do anything to make us change our mind, is that clear?"

"Crystal."

With the gun at his back prodding him along, Milton crawled quickly to a waiting jeep. He slinked over the side of the jeep into the passenger seat, followed by his caretaker. Another man in the drivers seat gunned the engine, and they flew out of the cargo bay down the dropship ramp, as bullets chased them all the way.

Milton didn't know why, but as they left the dropship behind, he felt safer with his present captors. The jeep sped past the dreary plains of Landsmark, and he fell asleep despite the guns at his side, dreaming of Jenna Doe and better times.

"So it is 3068, and apparently, I have been missing for the past nine years." Star Captain Leloni Furey said as she sipped at her cup of water. "Or more accurately, I have been somebody else during that period of time."

"Aff, Star Captain." Hadden nodded. "The insignia you have described indicates that you were a mechwarrior in the Taurian Defense Force, the Red Chasseurs regiment, and the rank shows that you were a Subaltern, or their equivalent of a Star Captain.

Leloni smirked. "At least I did not get demoted. But why cannot I remember what had happened to me? Did I betray the clan? Or was it just amnesia?"

"I am sorry, Star Captain, but we do not have any medtechs with us, or even any fully qualified doctors."

The tense standoff in the forest had ended when Hadden had blurted out the fact that she had been captured by pirates nine years ago. It had been a good starting point for them to discuss the issue.

Hadden filled her in on what had happened to the trinary since that savage fight with the pirates, where she had held the rearguard for her troops to escape, and been captured by the pirates. He had taken command of the remaining warriors, and they had escaped to another world, which Siphus had been using as a base. The ensuing battle finally ended the freedom of the Smoke Jaguars and sent them into a life of piracy and semi-slavery as part of the Syphon Blades. Until now.

Leloni had stunned them with her account of the horrors she had endured as a prisoner of the pirates on their dropship, but she had no idea what had happened after that. Her memory was simply a blank.

Then it was time to work, and Leloni went back into command like she always did, slipping into the role with such efficiency that it seemed that she had never left. Hadden accepted his new role of second-in-command easily. He told her he had never been able to hold the group of Smoke Jaguars as easily as she did, and her reappearance from the dead had been a godsend.

They had held the field, which meant the pick of the salvage, and the disposal of the prisoners. The pirates, either Shen Se Tian or Syphon Blade, were executed on the spot, while the captured Taurian soldiers were simply given some rudimentary medical treatment and then rounded up in several POW cages with concertina wire. She intended to ask them what they knew of her, because several of them had sent her shocked looks when she stood before them as the Smoke Jaguar commander.

The support group from the village had arrived to help with the recovery and salvage operations, and the ranking warrior named Nalus had been somewhat surprised by the appearance of Leloni when he had been expecting Hadden as the commander. Nevertheless, they had packed everything they could load up within the short time onboard three slow moving salvage trucks, and headed for the abandoned village which served as their temporary base.

All the time, the mechs stayed near the _Thunderbolt_, which was splayed across the back of one of the trucks like an invalid patient, its ECM still working with Leloni at the controls. They were not taking any chances. The _Thunderbolt _pilot, a female, had been the most distraught when she saw Leloni talking to Hadden, and she almost went berserk as she had hurled insult after insult at Furey.

The Star Captain did not show it to her men, but she had been affected by the outburst, especially when she was called 'traitor'. _Why did it hurt so much?_

"What were you going to do next?" Leloni Furey asked him and Nalus as they met again in the evening in a small shack.

Hadden answered her, "We still have some Jaguar lower caste bondsmen with the Blades. I told them to make a run for it from the dropship with whatever they could carry when the battle started. They should be on their way here soon."

"And after that?"

"We hold up until the _Osis' Pride_ arrives to take us off this surat dung filled world."

_Cowards._ Leloni shook her head. "Have you lost your pride, your courage?"

"Huh?" Hadden blinked.

"We have a binary of mechs. I say we take this world! Does the heart of the Jaguar not beat in your chest? Why should we hide like rats from these barbarians and pirates?"

"Star Captain, that is impossible!" Hadden protested. "We do not have the strength in mechs…"

"We are stronger after salvage than the ones who call themselves the Shen Se Tian, and on par with these Syphon Blades you spoke of. In addition, the Blades have just lost their leader, thanks to you. They will be weakened by infighting as they try to select a leader."

Hadden continued to shake his head. "What about the Taurians? They still have at least a full company out there, and bodies they can just pile into their infantry." 

"We shall see after we have taken care of the pirates. But I do want to impress the Galaxy Commander when he arrives, and this is the best way to do that." Leloni said firmly. "Make sure to have foot patrols out on the perimeter and reporting back to us at regular intervals. These Periphery surats probably have no concept of an honorable fight." The actual reason she did not want to fight the Taurians was the unease that came over her whenever she thought of engaging them in combat. But she could not let Hadden know that.

"Aff, Star Captain." Hadden replied, and was about to speak when Cagis walked in along with a woman in stained coveralls, obviously a tech.

"Star Captain," Cagis saluted smartly, "The remaining personnel from the pirates have arrived." He gestured to the tech, "This is Chief Technician Enez."

"I have not lost so much memory that I cannot remember my personal tech. Good to see you again, Enez," said Leloni, then she asked, "Is there anything else?"

Cagis shuffled his feet nervously, "Well, they have brought with them an interesting prisoner. It is Milton Hawkings."

Leloni shook her head in confusion. "Who?"

"Uhm, he is a very rich and important merchant in the Periphery." Hadden explained. "He has been trying to bribe us for the past few days with promises of riches and wealth beyond belief if we would let him go. I had him brought along because he overheard our plans."

Leloni glared at Enez. "Not a warrior. A mere merchant. Not our concern."

"Star Captain, we could use him as a bargaining chip with the barbarians. They hold him in some regard," Enez said. "Maybe you should talk to him and see what he might be able to do for us. He might be a mere merchant, lower caste, but even us lower castes have our uses," Enez said, then added, "He does not like the pirates either."

Leloni looked at her subordinates, then sighed. "Very well, I shall take a look at this merchant. If he is useless to us, I will have him killed. Bring him in."

A few minutes later, two warriors dragged in an unconscious man by his arms. His face was swollen from too many punches, and Leloni could see traces of dried blood alongside his mouth. A strange feeling stirred in her, and Leloni shoved it down. But she could not help but feel sorry for the man.

"Did you do this?" She asked.

"Neg, Star Captain. We brought him along, but he fell asleep on the journey here. His wounds are quite severe, but not life threatening."

"Wasteful," Leloni muttered as she walked forward and crouched in front of the man, who was barely conscious.

"Can you hear me, Milton Hawkings?" She patted him on the cheeks, taking care not to hit too hard.

The man stirred slightly. Leloni sighed, then patted him again. This time, she got a reaction.

He waved his arms in front of his face, "Uhhh, Jenna, let's not get out of bed yet. I want to sleep in today…"

Leloni rolled her eyes, even though she blushed a bit at his words, which was strange considering she had never met him before. "Merchant, wake up!" Her words had the desired effect this time. The man's eyes snapped open, or as open as they could get surrounded by the bulging bruises on his face.

He stared at her, and Leloni got the strange feeling she got when she first saw him, as well as a slight sensation of shame she had felt when the Taurians troopers had seen her. What was going on?

"Jenna," the man said fearfully, "What are you doing here? What have they done to you?" Milton suddenly got up from the floor and freed himself from the two men holding him with surprising strength. He pushed her back, shielding her from her subordinates with his body. "Get out, Jenna! I'll hold them off!" She saw surprise and bemusement on the faces of her warriors.

She spun him around by the shoulder to make him face her. "You must be mistaken. I am not Jenna, whoever she is. I am Star Captain Leloni Furey of the Smoke Jaguars."

He stared at her for a long time, before he uttered, "Oh my god, you remembered. You've got your memory back."

Leloni stared back at him, and the expression on his face both horrified and exhilarated her on levels she did not understand. She dragged him to chair, and sat him down roughly. "Tell me more," she demanded, "Who was I? Why is it that my memory of the past nine years are a blank? Tell me! Or I shall rip it out of you!"

Milton seemed to be in shock himself as she pressed him for information, "Why can't you remember? I don't know. I simply don't know. You're so different, so violent." Terror appeared on his face. "You're not Jenna. You're not Jenna anymore."

"Who is Jenna?" Leloni stared straight into his eyes. But they were disturbingly blank. "Who is she?"

He answered as though shell shocked, "Jenna Doe is you. You're Jenna Doe." He narrowed his eyes, "Or you're supposed to be. But you're not. Why?" He shook his head vehemently, and pleaded, "Give her back to me."

He started to shudder uncontrollably, and Leloni suddenly felt a chill stab through her heart at the sight. _What is wrong with me? And why is he looking at me like that? I feel sad to see him like that._

She did not know why she did so, but she grabbed his shaking hands between her own, and asked gently this time, "Who am I?" She could hardly recognize her own voice as she asked the question. _That was not me. That was somebody else…_

That seemed to steady Milton, and he answered after taking a deep breath, "You are, were, Jenna Doe, Subaltern, commanding officer of 1st Company of the 1st Battalion, Red Chasseurs regiment, 1st Corps, Taurian Defense Force."

"What else do you know?" She asked him, moving her head down to look him in the eyes as he shied away from her.

Milton seemed to have recovered from his bout of temporary insanity, and he stared at her sadly as he replied, "Jenna was my lover. I was about to propose to her."

Major Daniela Mattlov walked down the gloomy mech bay, lit up occasionally by the welding torch of the odd tech who did not seem to need rest after a hectic evening and night of constant work. She was looking for somebody.

She found Ian Calderon and Benny Greaves helping a tech position a piece of armor over her _Warhawk_, the two men grunting with the effort as they hefted the alloy over the gaping wound, aided by a winch holding up the massive armor plate.

"Careful, Benny," Ian called out, "Just a bit more to your side… Got it! Okay, Jim, shut it tight!"

Daniela crossed her arms below her breasts as she watched Jim fix the armor plate onto her mech while the two men held the piece in place. Ian was still clad in the sleeveless shirt and shorts he had worn during the battle, and his clothes were smudged with grease and dirt from working on the mechs. And the exhaustion on his face was plain to her.

She continued glaring at Ian for several long moments as he continued working, seemingly oblivious to her presence. It was only after they had fixed up the entire left side of the _Warhawk_ when he finally noticed her.

Ian waved at her, and Daniela waved back, then beckoned him with a finger to get down from the platform he was standing on.

"Yes, Daniela?" He asked as he climbed down a ladder. "I thought you should be asleep by now. Tomorrow's a long day. Go get some rest."

Daniela glared at him. "Maybe you should take your own advice, _Sir_."

Ian blinked, and he belatedly realized that she was angry at him. "Look, Major, I can take care of myself…"

"It is not just yourself you have to take care of. It is the whole command." She ground the words out from clenched teeth. "I have not seen a more irresponsible commander in my life."

Ian smiled. "So that's what you think?"

"I think you're trying to make up for the strategic retreat by working on the mechs to assuage your guilt."

 "Strategic retreat?" Ian laughed. "That's a nice euphemism."

Daniela slammed a hand against the side of a nearby cherry picker. "Are you listening to me? Go get some rest! Or I will send you there." He raised an eyebrow at her words.

"Sorry, but you're not my mother," Ian winked at her, which only served to raise her ire.

_I am going to hit this surat! _Daniela was about to lift a fist to smash against Ian's face, regulations and rules be damned, when he suddenly let out a long sigh and walked to a nearby crate, sitting on top of it. "Relax, Major. You're still strung up from the battle, right?"

_How can he still be so cheery about this? _"I am not 'strung up', as you say."

"Is it? Then why are your hands clenching and unclenching all the time?" He gestured pointedly at her sides, where she was indeed doing what he said.

"It is none of your business."

"I know what you mean, and I have to say that I know perfectly well what I'm doing."

"And working late at night rushing up on the repair work has nothing to do with your guilt at losing the battle?"

"Daniela, I'm not a coddled warrior who's never lost a fight in my life. Sure, I know I did badly back there, and the responsibility for the defeat is all mine, but on a logical level, nobody could have expected things to turn out the way they did."

"The Blades were hunting you."

He nodded, "You noticed that. They weren't pirates, more like mercenaries or privateers. A sane, or normal pirate band would have captured the supplies from the depots first, then maybe gathered a bunch of people along with Milton Hawkings to use as bargaining chips to get back their jumpship. But they didn't, because they needed to take me out. I was their objective."

"Then why didn't you agree to their demands in the first place?" The Syphon Blades had contacted them about Milton Hawkings, but Ian had refused to negotiate then.

"Because neither side had been driven to the wall. Until we reach that point, threats are just that, threats only. If the Blades had killed Milton, they would have lost any chance of getting their jumpship back. Similarly, we couldn't give in that quickly. They didn't tip their hand by asking for me right off, that would have been too obvious. They had to act like a typical band."

"And they did, right up to the point when they blindsided us," said Daniela. "That _Executioner _was really going after you."

"_Gladiator_." Ian corrected her gently. "We were lucky when the Blades suddenly split. If they hadn't, we'd be dead."

"Where did they get all that clan technology? I counted 6 omnimechs."

Ian rubbed his temples. "I was hoping to ask you."

Daniela closed her eyes, toting up the numbers. The presence of the _Stormcrow_, _Dire_ _Wolf_, and _Koshi_ was clear enough. "Smoke Jaguar mechs. Those were probably isorla from a Smoke Jaguar group."

"Is it possible that the split was a result of the Jaguar bondsmen rebelling against their masters?"

Daniela shook her head. "For all we know, it could be the other way round. Or some other case of infighting without Smoke Jaguars being involved."

Ian groaned. "Great. Just great."

"So what are you going to do next?" She asked.

"Why, fix up our mechs as soon as possible, of course!" Ian answered wryly.

"Most of the tech crew are resting, and it is easier to work in the day. I say you are still trying to make up for your mistake."

Ian sighed. "What if I tell you that even if we had won, I would still be working here?"

"I do not understand."

"Simple. I'm still too nervous from the fight to sleep, so rather than wasting my time, I might as well help out here." He shrugged. "I've lost enough battles not to let it worry me too much. Better to concentrate on concrete steps to get ourselves out of this fix."

"The situation is not really that bad." Daniela pointed out.

"No, it's not," Ian agreed, "But we'll need every mech up and running. I plan to lead a group out tomorrow to see what we can pull back from the battlefield. If we're lucky, we might be able to find some survivors and some salvage."

"And you are not tired?" She looked over him. He was definitely tired, but his demeanor said otherwise.

Ian grinned. "Let me tell you something. Years ago, when I was just a low-rank, know-nothing mechwarrior with the Green Mountain Boys, we would be fending off pirate raids every week. My company was stationed out on the edge of nowhere, and my lance commanders were all idiots who paid their way to their positions. Every time a pirate came down to grab a bite, we would fight them, and we would lose. We lost and kept losing so often and for so long that at times I wondered if my life was going to be nothing _but _losing. Every time we lost, we just told ourselves, better luck next time. We got stuck in a losing mentality. We accepted our fate."

"Then what happened?"

"After three years of losing, I realized something. Do something, anything, break the pattern. I started reading more extensively on anything I could get. I spent more time in the simulators. I didn't know what to do, but I didn't want to stay a loser all my life. And during the next battle, I even threatened my lance leader to do what I told him to. That brought us our first win." Ian smiled at the memory. "It was gratifying."

Daniela was confused. "What has all that got to do with your working late at night?"

"I'm not doing this purely out of guilt," he said seriously, "Helping to repair mechs raises morale for the troops when they see their officer isn't afraid to get down and dirty with them, especially after a loss. It tells them I'll be with them in the trenches. That could get us a win next time. And before you say that this will affect my other duties, I can assure you that it won't. I'll just make up for it over the next few days." He got up, and started walking towards the ladder. Benny and Jim were still working on her mech on the platform.

"You seem to have thought it all out." She was slightly irked that he had parried her arguments so easily.

"I won't be much of an officer if I couldn't do that, right?" He paused before the ladder, the turned towards her, "Daniela, if you can't sleep, why don't you help us? It's your mech." He grinned at her, then started up towards the platform.

_Why not? _Daniela allowed herself a slight smile. _He is right, and I cannot sleep_. She walked up to the ladder, and started climbing. "Tell me what to do."

Well, that's it for another chapter. This hadn't been easy to write, especially when you're trying to write competent characters instead of having them suffer brain farts to make the story go where you want it to go. Author Fiat, quiaff?

If anybody feels any side could have done things differently to get a better result for themselves, please email me. I'd really like to know. This is the sort of complicated battle that I seem to be getting all the time. But hey, nobody wants to read fics where one side outnumbers the other by 3 to 1 and the result is all too obvious, right?

I hope the Leloni Furey/Jenna Doe identity crisis subplot was clear enough. It was quite difficult to write, and emotive scenes were never my strong suit. Anyway, it'll be interesting to see where the story goes from here. Schizo to the Izzo! Also, the Smoked(heh) Jaguar fans should like what I have lined up for them.

Ian was once a loser. Never expected it, eh? I have a back story for him just like for Descartin Winters, but it's only for my own reference. Nyah, nyah, nyah! Taurian fans, hang in there. Super Grover is gonna get his!

Now, to my reviewers.

**Ngtmr1**: Ryo is supposed to be an outrageous character. But he has his competent moments. After all, he's the finest and fastest shot in the Combine.

**The Not So Nice Guy**: Action, finally! Hope the above battle was enough for you adrenaline junkies!

**Thunder**: Long back and forth over email was fun. But due to in-story and in-universe constraints, we can't utilize our ideas much… yet. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

**Valefore**: Glad you liked it! And why hasn't there been an update on your side? Get working!

**Duo**: Bigger is sometimes better. It depends on the situation. Static defense? You'd better pray you've got assault mechs lined up!

**Aeain**: Hope the above battle was good enough!

**Unarmed Bystander**: Long wait? How about this?!? 1000 words per day!

**Sphinx**: The mech named after you will be appearing soon… hehehehehe

**Eddy_s**: Evil laughter is a staple of bad guys. They have to practice that laughter, you know. And yes, I'm a wobblie now. Hail the Toaster!!! OHM! WATT! VOLT!

**Tangmeister**: Hope the wait wasn't as agonizing this time.

For this chapter's bonus design, here's the C3 master Centurion Jenna used for the battle. I put up the Cockatrice, before somebody commented that I shouldn't be putting out vehicles which won't be entering the story for some time yet. So, here's a different design. :P

Type/Model:    Centurion CN10-D

Mass:          50 tons

Equipment:                                 Crits    Mass

Int. Struct.:  83 pts Endo Steel            14      2.50

 (Endo Steel Loc: 1 HD, 3 LA, 3 RA, 2 LT, 1 RT, 2 LL, 2 RL)

Engine:        200 Fusion                    6      8.50

   Walking MP:   4 [5]

   Running MP:   6 [8]

   Jumping MP:   0

Heat Sinks:     10 Double [20]               6       .00

 (Heat Sink Loc: 2 RT)

Gyro:                                        4      2.00

Cockpit, Life Supt., Sensors:                5      3.00

Triple Strength Myomer:                      6       .00

Actuators: L: Sh+UA+LA+H    R: Sh+UA+LA     15       .00

Armor Factor:  168 pts Standard              0     10.50

                          Internal    Armor

                          Structure   Value

   Head:                      3          9      

   Center Torso:             16         23      

   Center Torso (Rear):                  8      

   L/R Side Torso:           12      18/18      

   L/R Side Torso (Rear):              6/6      

   L/R Arm:                   8      16/16      

   L/R Leg:                  12      24/24      

Weapons and Equipment    Loc  Heat  Ammo   Crits    Mass

--------------------------------------------------------

1 Rotary AC/5            RA      1   60      9     13.00

  (Ammo Locations: 3 RT)

1 C³ Master Computer     LT      0           5      5.00

1 LRM 5                  LT      2   24      2      3.00

  (Ammo Locations: 1 RT)

1 ER Medium Laser        CT(R)   5           1      1.00

1 ER Medium Laser        CT      5           1      1.00

CASE Equipment:          RT                  1       .50

--------------------------------------------------------

TOTALS:                         18          75     50.00

Crits & Tons Left:                           3       .00

Calculated Factors:

Total Cost:        7,195,000 C-Bills

Battle Value:      1,264  (+135 for C³)

Cost per BV:       5,692.25

Weapon Value:      1,571 / 1,571 (Ratio = 1.24 / 1.24)

Damage Factors:    SRDmg = 27;  MRDmg = 17;  LRDmg = 3

BattleForce2:      MP: 4,  Armor/Structure: 4/4

                   Damage PB/M/L: 4/3/-,  Overheat: 0

                   Class: MM;  Point Value: 13

                   Specials: c3m

Next chapter finally brings us to the heart of the story on Terra as Frank's adventure begins. It starts out with him in a very, very bad situation… Also, contrary to my initial plan, I'd be inserting chapters dealing with events with other characters like Yoshino Ihara. It's all Robert Jordan's fault for infecting me with lengthnitidis.

BTW, the fic is now rated R, because of adult themes.

Don't forget to review!


	15. Meronac

_Yeah, yeah, I've read all the relevant psychological journals(Harold Wolff et al) which stated categorically that brainwashing was impossible from the perspective of completely reordering a person's fundamental beliefs. Problem was, those studies were still based on 20th to 25th century technology, and in many cases used case studies with techniques that stretched back to the Spanish Inquisition and even to the Roman Age._

_Even today, behavioural scientists are adamant that brainwashing is impossible, even with advances in bio-electrics, radio stimulation of the brain, electronic destruction of memory, stereotaxic surgery, psychosurgery, hypnotism, parapsychology, radiation, microwaves, and ultrasonics._

_I wish I could stick them inside a cell on Terra and let the Wobblies reprogram them from stuck up ivory tower types into religious fanatics. Alien technology, the horrors we had inadvertently unleashed from Einstein, was about to change everything._

-_The Word of Blake Contagion_, Frank Meronac

_Terra_

_Chaos March_

_Time, Date Unknown_

"Is he ready?"

"No, not yet."

"But he is here, correct?"

"Aye, he is. In the hands of the Word of Blake."

"But they do not know what they have caught. It is still possible to retrieve him."

"Good. Do we have any agents involved?"

"Only one. He has already implemented a slight modification to their initial plans."

"And any more changes might tip off the Blakists."

"But we have other means, don't we?"

"The Resistance."

"Use them."

The recordings just did not stop. No matter that he had tried to cup his shaking hands over his ears, plus using bits of food as makeshift earplugs. The messages went into his brain again and again, and even though he recognised the technique for what it was, it did not reduce its potency any.

He felt as if he was going mad.

"Blake shall redeem humanity."

"The salvation of the Inner Sphere lies in the holy writ of Blake."

"Technology is sacred."

"Submit to our benevolent rule."

_Benevolent indeed! _Frank Meronac wanted to laugh at that last recording being blared into his cold dark cell, but his stomach hurt too much from the severe beating of the night before. It was so bad that he couldn't even swallow more than a few mouthfuls of his single meal for the day before he vomited the food back up. Well, at least he was used to beatings, instead of in the first few days, when he had literally had stuff poked up his ass.

Frank shivered at the memory of the electric prod. Unlike most people, it wasn't the humiliation, but rather the pain which was more unbearable. But as Clarice often complained about him, he never had much pride at all. It was the same reason why he had meekly accepted beating after beating in the past.

The thought of Clarice focused him slightly. Frank wanted to give Victor Steiner-Davion a good kick in the head for sending him on this fool's errand in the first place. So what about the reward if he was just going to get killed on Terra?

The moment he had arrived in system, white clad Blakists had seized him and all his belongings, which thankfully did not contain anything that would have given him away. There had been no warning, no way to escape. They had given him some form of injection, and the next thing he knew was the cell and the prison in complete darkness, along with what seemed to be a very thin pair of shorts and a shirt that definitely did not keep him warm. Obviously, somebody had tipped them off.

One thing he didn't quite get was why they continued to refer to him as William Horry. So maybe the Wobblies didn't know who he exactly was, but it was still pretty bad. Frank suspected that if they knew who he really was, it could have been a great deal worse than electric prods up the ass, as evident from the even louder screams of agony from the other cells.

Well, at least they did seem to be screaming louder than he was.

Frank had no wish to endure what those other suckers were going through, but he was beginning to suspect they would give him that sort of treatment if he continued to resist. He was going to confess that, yes, he was a religious subversive from the Unfinished Book movement, he was dreadfully sorry for stepping on Blakist territory, and… would they please accept him into their movement of toaster worshipping?

Laughing at his own private joke would have given him away, and Frank was sure they had infrared cameras in the pitch dark cell watching his every move. He wasn't sure how they would do it, but he had gathered from sessions with his interrogator that they were watching him. All the time.

He had tried feeling around the cell before, but that had only brought him another severe beating when some goons had just rushed in and bashed him silly. He didn't attempt that again, after he had been beaten so bad he had tasted blood in his mouth.

The floor of the cell was wet after it had been flooded to wash away his vomit and uneaten food. Frank was quite sure he didn't stink, but the cold water was numbing his senses. He could barely feel his own hands and feet.

At this point in time, Frank just wanted the entire ordeal to stop. By Blake, he couldn't even tell what day it was. _What a minute, "_By Blake_"? The brainwashing is getting to me,_ Frank concluded miserably. He realised he hadn't seen _anything _for a long, long time. Not even a tiny beam of light.

If he guessed right, there should be another interrogation and brainwash session soon., since he could barely remember the previous one. He would give up, swear allegiance to the Word of Blake, and hopefully get himself into a better position to escape. But there were also doubts about this course of action. Frank was sure he wasn't the first one to think of this, and who knew what else the Wobblies have in store?

Then there was the sudden sound of the cell door being slammed opened, and the shuffling of feet. Frank felt hands close around his arms, and he could not fight his way free however much he struggled. One of his handlers clouted him across the face several times, and Frank felt blood running from his nose, as well as an intense pain all over his face. He ceased his struggling.

They dragged him out of his cell.

ROM Adept Marcus Chua was waiting for their latest guinea pig in one of the many rooms in Alcatraz, otherwise known as the Rock. Inside the room was a chair. Facing the chair was a holocube, and above the chair were several devices, all pointed towards the general area of the head of a person sitting in the chair. Highly advanced behavioural modifying technology, the Rewrite project had been started more than ten years ago, almost immediately after the Word of Blake captured Terra.

More equipment were strewn around the room, along with dozens of flashing lights that reminded Marcus of the heretical festival called Christmas. Several white robed scientists worked on the equipment, constantly fine-tuning this or that little gadget. There would be little room for error. Subjects for these experiments were not exactly easy to come by.

Tests had at first been carried out on members of the order itself, mostly True Believers who switched to the Toyama sect after going through the procedure, thus proving its success. Then work had begun on neutrals captured from all over the Inner Sphere.

Step by step, they had improved on the technology, but the final few steps, of turning people with only the slightest sympathy, or even hatred, for the Word of Blake into its most fanatical adherents had only sped up recently when one of their agents had returned from the recent Periphery expedition, kicked out by the mercenary soldiers after they had identified him as a secret agent. But he had managed to uncover enough information.

The agent's eidetic memory with details of alien knowledge of nervous programming and technology had been of supreme use in speeding up the research and development process. That had been the first leg in their final sprint.

Breakthroughs in deciphering the secrets of the human brain and its exact functions, achieved by the judicious use of Terra's 6 billion population, as well as almost complete understanding of the reactions and actions of people under certain conditions, provided the other leg.

And now, they were at what Precentor Cunningham described as Stage One, where the subject would be moderately hostile, and Stage Zero would be the ability to turn complete and bitter enemies like a clan warrior, or even the hated Focht, into a Blakist fanatic.

Marcus couldn't wait for it to be completed. There were other benefits to the technology, of course, like neural programming to reduce training time, when they could just implant skills, memories, and even behavioural patterns into recruits, turning them into real soldiers in mere instants. Using it to pull information and data out of enemies without resorting to narco-interrogation that could have fried a valuable warrior. There were even experiments centred on increasing the brain capacity in use, thus heightening intelligence and creativity.

The possibilities were endless. The future of humanity would be assured when they succeeded.

The door to the lab opened, and William Horry, an Unfinished Book subversive, was pulled in by several guards from the pitch black corridor. The prisoner screamed in agony as a guard snapped a torchlight directly into his eyes, which had not seen any light at all for the past three weeks. It removed any resistance the man had left.

The guards took off their night vision goggles, and then strapped the subject into the chair. They secured his wrists with steel bindings, ensuring that he could not escape. From the look of the prisoner, he did not seem as though he could get away from the chair even if he was not tied down. Blood ran down his face, and he was badly bruised all over. He wasn't unconscious, but close to it. More electrodes were attached to his face and body.

Precentor Cunningham, the head scientist of the project, looked over Horry once with a critical eye, then nodded to an acolyte. A slight humming sound indicated the activation of the Rewrite machinery, and then the procedure started with beams playing on and around Horry's head, while wild images flashed across the holocube. Horry began twitching, and his mouth snapped open. His eyes became blank, and the veins on his arms showed the tension in his entire body. They could see that he was trying to close his eyes, but the electrical signals being slammed into his body through the electrodes were preventing him from doing so.

Cunningham prepared to leave the room, "Well now, there's nothing left to do but wait. It'll take about twelve hours, so why don't we just take a break? The subject is securely tied in, and I don't foresee any problems. We can always use another terminal to modify the program if needed."

"Lead the way then, Precentor." Chua said as he followed the rest out, locking the door behind them securely. The security cameras in the room would monitor the progress of the brainwashing, and ensure that nothing unexpected happened. The current status of the experiment would be sent to another lab elsewhere on the continent as backup. Nothing should go wrong.

Deep within the electronic bowels of the Alcatraz prison, there was an intruder. The uninvited trespasser swam amongst the data currents, picking out as many interesting data bits as possible.

"Hurry up with it, Rodriguez," said a man from their small van parked on a deserted street in San Francisco. "Don't tip off the Wobblies that we're into their systems. Replacing the remote jack module would be… difficult."

Hierro 'Rod' Rodriguez grunted as he stared at the screen while hammering rapidly away at his keyboard. He knew damn well what he was doing. They had only managed to get into the Wobblie planetary datanet by inserting a remote module into one of the many underground data cables that connected installations with each other. There were periodic checks on those data cables to ensure that there was no tampering, of course, but they had just managed to get the module in, allowing him access to the Wobblie systems. The module would have to be removed before the next check in a week's time, but for the moment they should be safe enough.

Rod himself was one of the most proficient hackers in the Resistance, and he prided himself on his abilities, highly sought after by almost every other group opposed to the Wobblies. He had been a computer undergraduate who had descended into the shadows after he had uncovered evidence of the Blakist's misdeeds, and they had tried to silence him.

Comstar Precentor James Taffel had saved his life, and Rod had stayed with the Comstar warrior's group ever since. This particular mission was one of utmost importance, and could be a real shot in the arm in obtaining data that could hopefully be taken off-world as impetus for Comstar to finally do something about the growing threat of the Toyamas.

As an added bonus, they had received a tip off that some captured Comstar personnel were also being held in Alcatraz, and Taffel had made their rescue an immediate priority for their action cell.

Rod was in the system to find out more, and perhaps modify the internal orders if possible. He easily found the data he needed, and started copying as many files as he could, while engaging several other search programs to seek out items of interest.

Ahah! There was a routine prisoner transfer to be carried out the very next day. Rod quickly seized all the names of the Comstar personnel held in the Rock and swapped them into the transfer list. It was the only way, because the Rock was impregnable.

"Got them, sir!" Rod reported. "Tomorrow, transfer convoy from Alcatraz to Phoenix at 1100 hrs. I've got their manifest list, the vehicles and escorts involved, and the route. This gives us a real chance at intercepting the convoy and getting the people out. But this also means we won't be able to get the remote module out in time."

"Never mind about that. Anything else?" said Taffel, looking over Rod's shoulder, his face lit by the light from the screen. "Don't stay in too long. Getting caught now would wreck everything."

"No worries, sir," replied Rod smugly, "I've burrowed so deeply into their security systems that they think my programs are one of them. Wait, there's something related to the Rewrite project!"

"Take a look at it." Taffel instructed.

Across the screen flashed several interesting bits of data.

"They're reprogramming somebody right now, with about an elapsed hour and eleven more to go," Rod typed in several commands, "Want me to throw in a monkey wrench? They left a global access passage for others to modify and monitor the process off location. I can get in there."

"Be my guest," Taffel nodded, then said after a moment, "In fact, use the skills modules we lifted from the MIT labs, all of them."

Rod answered with a snort of pure disgust. They had seen from their stolen information what the Rewrite program was about, with initial tests turning relatively sane Blakists into cold blooded killers. The first, final, and only criteria of success for the program was for the subject to kill another human being,  preferably somebody the subject knew, without hesitation. Even the slightest moment of doubt would have meant that the programming to remove all morality from the subject had failed, and the subject would be terminated.

Then they had found out about the other applications of the technology after a raid on MIT and Taffel had been adamant that they uncover as much of the data available. Rod rather thought Taffel's willingness to hijack the current brainwashing procedure of this William Horry for the skills implantation program was a cruel decision.

The skills implantation set Taffel had ordered was a veritable super soldier program. The Blakists had divided the skills implanted into various skills associated with different roles, like mech combat, aerospace fighting, battle armour operation, vehicle operation, infantry combat, reconnaissance, black ops etc, because it had been found that implanting too many skills at once often caused burnout, resulting in a brain-dead test subject.

But that was exactly what Taffel was doing. He had ordered Rod to throw in everything, and Rod could understand that because there was still another 11 plus hours to go, and if there was nothing to replace the original Rewrite program, the lack of stimuli would be too suspicious.

But Rod felt obliged to mention it. "Boss, that much will kill the guy. Or be fried at the least."

Taffel was grim as he replied, "He'll be dead anyway if he gets turned. I'd think he'll thank us if he does flatline. I know this is pretty bad, but if this fails, we'll have messed up one of the Wobblies' projects, and if it succeeds, we might just have gotten some useful data on the skills implantation procedure. And maybe, just maybe, we might even get a useful agent out of this."

Rod tore his eyes away from the screen, "Say what?"

"Put him into the list of people in the convoy, and list him as being sent to somewhere else for additional testing. I got a hunch. It's not logical, I know, but there's this gut feeling I'm getting, and I've learnt not to ignore my gut."

Rod refrained from making a snide comment about Taffel's gut and his love of food as he carried out his orders. He also refrained from commenting on his commander's cold blooded decision to condemn this innocent man to a fate that was perhaps worse than death.

Frank gritted his teeth and tried to move his head, but the only motion possible to him was to tilt his head backwards, forwards, and from side to side. He slammed his head back against the headrest of the chair several times, but it hardly made a dent in the agony in his head.

He vaguely remembered nearly being fried somewhere in the past when something in his mech had blown up, but he could barely put a thought together with all the stabbing knives eagerly poking holes in his head. They carved long, torturous paths through his nervous tissue, picking at his memory and his very soul.

_Life is cheap._

He tried to ignore the words, but they just kept drilling into his mind. It was an eternity of sharp, piercing pain.

_Life is cheap._

"Arggghhh…" He groaned.

_Kill. Kill. Kill them all. Kill in the name of Blake._

Frank tried to hold onto his own thoughts, his own sense of self, but it was slipping away…

_Slipping away…_

Then everything changed. One moment there was the excruciating pain of the knives perforating him, the next his skull was a overstressed dam trying to hold back a torrent of mind numbing images. Frank started screaming from the intense pressure building up in his head.

His screams did not stop for many hours.

"What is the prognosis?" Marcus Chua stared at the wide eyed, catatonic Horry who sat slumped over in his bonds. A line of drool trailed down to the floor from his open mouth.

"Minimal higher level brain activity. Looks like this one's a wash." Cunningham sighed heavily as he checked his monitors. "And I had such expectations…"

"Don't worry. We have a few more candidates in line. This is just a temporary setback."

Horry was released from his bonds, and the man just keeled over and fell heavily onto the floor in a heap. A small pool of saliva formed under his mouth, while his eyes continued staring at nothing in particular.

"Do we sedate him?" An assistant asked.

Marcus looked at Horry. "Don't bother. Throw him into his cell. Let him rot."

The next day, the prison staff were plucking prisoners out of their cells and prepping them for transfer. The Comstar personnel were all sedated to prevent problems. Nobody asked why the transfer orders had changed from when they last saw it. It wasn't safe policy with ROM agents at every command level ready to pounce on the slightest bit of doubt.

Included in the transfer was one William Horry, who was not sedated due to his status as a neutral, but tied down securely anyway. The prisoners were strapped into their chairs, unable to move even if they wanted to.

The transfer included 20 Comstar acolytes and adepts, 15 'neutrals', and 5 real criminals. They would be sent to Phoenix.

The convoy set off on time at 1100 hrs, two wheeled trucks holding the prisoners and two Chevalier tanks as escorts. They were soon joined by a group of mechs from the nearby city of San Francisco, a Level II of Blakist mechs from the city garrison which would escort them all the way to Phoenix. They proceeded on a new highway built by the Word of Blake, Interstate 4RF, an almost flat and straight route to Phoenix.

The convoy stopped for lunch at their designated stop point at 1330 hrs after travelling a total of 150 kilometers. Half the mech pilots left their cockpits for chow supplied by the prison trucks, while the other half stayed on watch. They were in a sparsely wooded area, the trees obscuring much of their sight.

Then the rebels attacked from their hidden positions.

Precentor James Taffel, who was supposed to have retired from active duty in the Com Guards after the Battle of Tukayyid, struck first, his _Marauder-5S_ firing its ER PPCs and gauss rifle into a _Toyama_. The shots all carved into the _Toyama_'s left torso, which promptly crumpled under the hideous firepower. The _Toyama_ crashed to the ground in a shower of sparks.

Meanwhile, his fellow resistance fighters were taking full advantage of their current position, targeting the active Blakist mechs and vehicles. A _Lightray_ was vaporised when hit by a salvo of 40 SRMs from a modified SRM carrier, while a _Wyvern_ was turned into a raging fireball when its ammunition stores were ignited by a _Wolverine_.

The Word of Blake personnel, especially the mechwarriors, were gunned down by his infantry, while the two Chevaliers were quickly turned into bonfires when some troopers fired inferno SRMs into them.

"Go, go, go!" James ordered into his neurohelmet's communications microphone. "Secure the trucks, then get those prisoners out! And somebody get those empty mechs!" He had only a platoon of leg infantry and some specialised personnel, and getting out the Comstar folks and the neutrals would be difficult with such short manpower. He was using techs to man the captured mechs, since fully qualified mechwarriors were extremely rare in the resistance groups.

His lance of mechs and another two combat vehicles gathered round the perimeter of the site nervously as the infantry soldiers stormed the trucks and inspected the Blakists. Those still alive were given medical attention to ensure that they would live until help arrived, while the dead were quickly laid out carefully in neat rows. Taffel might be a guerrilla fighter, but he was sure going to be a conscientious one. Another truck meant to hold the rescued prisoners drove up one side of the road.

_Come on, hurry up_, he urged his men silently. 150 kilometres away from San Francisco meant that VTOLs or aerospace elements could be upon them pretty soon, in as little as five minutes. He wanted them to get away as soon as possible.

He opened one eye, then the other, even as he wriggled the fingers and toes on his limbs to check that he was still intact. His throat felt extremely dry and hoarse, and he struggled to eject some saliva from his glands to water his parched throat. He felt exhausted and weak.

There were several booming sounds that indicated explosions, and the vaguely familiar vibrations he could feel through the chair he was in told him that mechs were on the march nearby. He didn't know where he was, or what he was. For the life of him, he could not even remember his own name at the moment.

There was a blindfold over his eyes, and there were straps tying him down into his seat. He could barely move his body, and he hurt like hell. The ringing headache didn't help either.

Suddenly, there was a sound of a metal door being slammed open, and he heard the crunching of boots with dirt under the soles upon the metallic floor of… wherever he was.

The newcomers made little sound, save for their slow breaths and the slight rustling of weapons straps against their clothes. One walked near him, and suddenly his blindfold was torn off.

The man winced at the light permeating his eyes, forcing himself to adjust and investigate his rescuers, if that was who they were. They wore green combat uniforms, and their faces were painted in typical forest camo patterns. They wielded an assortment of weapons, some of which were cautiously pointed his way.

"Wh…" His voice cracked, and the man tried again after working up some more saliva, "Who are you?"

There was no reply, but they did release him from his straps. The man was lifted out of his chair. He noticed the same thing happening to several other people.

The soldiers took him out of the room he was in, and the man realized that it had been a truck. He coughed a bit from the smoke outside, coming from several burning heaps that he identified as mechs and vehicles roasted by inferno rounds.

A hulking _Marauder _stood nearby, its bulbous weapons pods aimed towards the sky, as if watching for some attacker from the clouds. The man had realised that even though he could not remember who he was, he was able to recognize machines and tools. Hell, he could even tell the model makes of the small arms most of the soldiers were handling.

And somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he could pilot a mech.

A thunderous roar drowned everything else out, a rising fireball only a hundred meters away, followed by several more explosions out of nowhere. Somebody screamed, "Incoming!"

The man dove to the ground, as did everybody else, but that did not stop an Arrow IV missile from hitting the truck he was in. Shrapnel punched through a soldier beside him, and the man swallowed dryly in fear as he was splattered with blood.

More missiles were falling on the area, and the calm of the gathered soldiers had dissolved in the chaos of the unexpected attack. They ran about haphazardly, trying to seek any semblance of cover, which was impossible in the face of such powerful artillery missiles.

Prisoners were being pulled along hastily by the surviving soldiers into another small truck. "Enemy mechs on the way!" A soldier with a commset announced fearfully. The mechs immediately started moving towards the direction of the missiles. "We have to go, now!"

The man looked around desperately. Then his eyes set upon an idling _Hussar _battlemech, with a technician, from the looks of it, in the cockpit. He surmised that the man was overriding the mech's security systems. It was obvious that the mech did not initially belong to the people who had gotten him out. The colour schemes did not match. The _Hussar_ was painted in white and blue, but the other mechs were painted in standard green camo.

The man also knew instinctively that these people were on his side, though he had no idea what side it was exactly. All he knew was that he should help them.

He started limping as fast as he could for the _Hussar_, ignoring the cramps and aches in his muscles. He clambered up the cockpit access ladder, and came face to face with the tech. "Is the mech ready?"

The tech stared at him in shock, though the man knew he must look a sight. "Who the hell are you?"

"I don't know. Does it matter?"

The tech detached a radio from a hip pocket, "Talk to the commander." The man grabbed the radio, even as another missile fell not more than 80 meters away.

"Who's this?" The gruff words were followed by a grunt, and the tell tale whine of a PPC discharge.

"I don't know, but I think I can pilot a mech."

"Sorry, but no. We can't trust you…"

"Yes, you can, dammit!" The man roared, anger flooding his words. "This is personal. The Blakists beat me up, tortured me for days. I assure you I hate them as much as you do." Memories were finally coming back to him, and the man was livid with barely suppressed anger at his treatment at the hands of the Wobblies. He glared at the tech. "I'm gonna make them pay." He clenched his fists, and resisted the urge to shake them at the tech.

There was only the sound of weapons fire on the other side of the radio for several moments, before the commander replied, "Anderson, is the _Hussar_ ready?"

The tech blinked in surprise. "Yes sir, it's ready. But sir, we still don't know who this guy is…"

"We're fucked either way. Let him have the mech."

The tech took a second to look at the man, before reaching down into the cockpit for a cooling vest and a neurohelmet, which he tossed at the man. "I hope you know what you're doing." The tech slid over behind the mechwarrior couch, allowing the man to sit into the couch.

"I hope so myself," the man murmured as he shrugged on the cooling vest, then placed the neurohelmet over his head. "You tuned this already?"

"Not yet. Hold on."

There was a wave of vertigo before the man felt the nauseous sensation subside into a dull, throbbing beat at the base of his skull.

"Okay. I just calibrated the neural patterns to your brainwaves, and I'm switching the mech off from standby. I know it still feels like shit, but it'll take a while for the auto diagnostic I've installed to enhance the link." Anderson slapped the top of the man's neurohelmet once, "For luck, buddy. Good luck, and good hunting." The tech jumped off the ladder, pressing a button as he did so, retracting the ladder back under the cockpit.

The slap on his head seemed to knock another memory loose, and Frank Meronac remembered his own name now, along with additional twinges of pain. _Yeah, wish me good luck. I guess I'll need every bit of it._ He still felt like shit and he was thirsty and hungry as hell, but somehow being in a mech, striking back at the Wobblies, made him feel better.

From his scattered memory, Frank recalled that the _Hussar_ was a 30 ton light mech, top speed about 150 kph, designed for skirmishing and deep penetration strikes. Because of its speed, Frank was strongly reminded of the _Dart_ he had used back on Salem, but there were some crucial differences between this _Hussar_ and its previous incarnations.

This version of the _Hussar_ packed an extended range particle cannon instead of a single large laser. The PPC was assisted by a nifty targeting computer system that could further improve the PPC's accuracy with another C3i spotter. Frank was bewildered for the slightest of moments by the sheer sophistication of the _Hussar_, with all its high tech bells and whistles.

But more than that, Frank was disturbed that he had seemed to know almost exactly which piece of equipment, which toggle and switch on the console, was about. The specifications of the original _Hussar _had popped into his mind even though he had never ever seen a _Hussar_ before in his whole life, nor spent time reading up on every mech in existence like most other mechwarriors.

_What the hell happened to me?_ thought Frank as he started the _Hussar_ up at a brisk walk towards the radar spots indicating the positions of the friendly mechs. _I'm remembering stuff I shouldn't have!_

"Hussar pilot, you there?" The commander suddenly asked. Frank was so surprised he nearly lost control of the _Hussar_. "The line's encrypted, don't worry."

"Yeah, I'm here. Advancing towards your position right now."

"So you are indeed a mechwarrior? Remember your name now?"

Frank wanted to answer back with his real name, but something told him that he should give another. The name William Horry appeared, "I'm William Horry."

Frank could swear the commander nearly choked on his answer, before the other man replied, "Uh, good, Mister Horry. Well, here's the situation. The Wobblies have set us up well and proper this time. They seemed to know that we would be intercepting the convoy at this exact spot, and have set up some artillery units northwest to pound us into shit once we made our move. They also got a Level II as a screen pinning us down right now, and we're falling back steadily."

"I want you to use that _Hussar_ on a long flanking move. Get the attention of those arty units. Destroy them if you can. Chaparrals or Padillas shouldn't be much of a problem. Then bug out once I give the signal. We can't run with our backs turned if that means an Arrow IV missile into our asses."

The situation seemed awfully familiar, and Frank was tempted to refuse. But like everything else that had happened to him, he had no choice. Nope, none at all. And the cold anger of his incarceration still burned in him.

"On it," Frank said simply as he kicked the _Hussar_ up to top speed. "Consider those Wobblies dead."

Adept Ganisto growled as he struggled to keep his _Initiate_ upright from the sheer force of the _Marauder_'s hard hitting attack, shaving away almost all the protection from the mech's arms. There was no doubt in his mind that the mechwarrior in that rebel machine was an ace, the movements of his mech fluid and deadly as he picked Ganisto's unit apart.

His _Initiate_ was falling into pieces, and so was the plan. It had called for his troops to be merely the force to pin the enemy force in place while their supporting artillery units provided the main hammer thrust with their big Arrow IV rockets guided in by TAG. But the big rockets were hitting nowhere because his VTOL spotters were shot down before they could lock on the enemy mechs. There were four reserve _Red Shift_s rapidly moving up from the backfield, but even then it would take time.

The suppression fire the rebels were throwing out was shocking considering their size, but Ganisto knew a lot of that was due to their gunnery skill. His warriors were being forced from stepping out from cover to take clear shots at the rebels, but the rebels could not disengage either because they knew that he still had a _Raven_ just waiting to designate an unwary target with the Target Acquisition Gear, which would most certainly spell the end of the mech with multiple Arrow IV homing missile impacts.

It was basically a stalemate, with the arty units using up their saturation rounds in a vain attempt to score a lucky hit. But the stalled battle took a sudden turn for the worse when his sensors screamed of a fast moving mech skirting round the battlefield towards the artillery units.

Then the _Marauder _charged, and that was when Ganisto realized he had a real problem.

_Chaparrals my ass!_ Frank wanted to complain when he finally saw the hulking metallic beasts that were the originators of the Arrow IV missiles. They weren't the low slung vehicles from the Star League era that his messed up mind had managed to dredge up when the commander, whoever he was, had mentioned Chaparrals, but instead were massive assault mechs that belched missile after missile at their far off targets.

The light forests had given way to a series of rolling hills and undulating plains, which gave him a pretty clear view of the new mechs. Unfortunately, that meant they could see him too. The enemy arty mechs were arrayed in a long line, spaced out in 300 meter intervals. There were six of them.

Frank fired off a particle burst at one of those mechs, which hit a torso without any noticeable effect. His brain began to unconsciously catalogue the new design's likely armour tonnage, weapons loadout, speed and other various aspects of a new design that he was dead certain he should not be able to do before.

_Assault mech. 100 tons. Armour estimated at near max, top speed 50 kph. Twin missile tubes in each torso indicates dual Arrow IV launchers. Recessed weapons ports in torso and head are probably machine guns or small to medium lasers. Jump jets likely from exhaust vents on rear of mech._

Frank entered the information into his Warbook program as soon as he could from the unfamiliar thoughts running through his mind, all the while trying to draw a bead on the enemy mechs.

He fired another particle beam at the same mech he had struck before, but the shot missed this time. The huge mechs were not even bothered by his _Hussar_, but continued flinging Arrow IV missiles into the sky. Unlike the Chaparrals which could be killed with just three well placed PPC shots, Frank suspected that it would probably take forever for him to kill one of those beasts.

_I have to catch their attention…_ He noticed something on the far side of the line. _What's that?_ Frank punched up his magnification, and saw about 4 trucks next to one of the big mechs. The trucks had a cargo hoist on a turret, and were loading something into the mechs' cavernous torsos. Those looked like crates, but there was a strange series of large levers on them as well.

The extra knowledge he had somehow come into possession of was as handy as ever. _Arrow IV ammunition canister. Featured on _O-Bakemono_ class arty mechs. Empty canisters are ejected via a dump mechanism, and fresh ammunition canisters, weighing a ton each, are loaded in. Entire process takes 5 minutes to complete._

Frank didn't even want to think about how he knew all that crap. He did not have the time for that, and the battle was just heating up. The glimmers of a plan concerning the cargo carriers began to coalesce in his mind, but as he moved around the line, several red blips appeared on his radar. And they were moving very fast. _They'd be onto me in less than a minute._

The _Hussar_ sent dirt up into the air behind it as Frank sprinted it on a parallel course to the new arrivals. Probably _Mercury_, _Mongoose_, or _Red Shift_ designs, he thought. Frank wanted to hit his own head. What the hell was a _Red Shift_?

_That's a Red Shift_, the new part of his mind answered back moments later as two spindly light mechs appeared from behind a hill, headed straight towards him. It even supplied the relevant information before the Warbook could do so. _Scout/electronic spotter design. 20 tons. Two extended range medium lasers, TAG, and either an ECM or Active Probe module. Top speed, 151 kph._

_That's the same as the Hussar_, Frank realized. _This is gonna be tricky._

One _Red Shift _fired, a laser bolt slamming into the side of the Hussar's cockpit, blinding Frank for an instant, but causing no damage due to the extreme range of the shot. The other laser bolt whipped into the ground. At this sort of range, the laser beams combined could not even heat up a cup of coffee.

Frank kept his mech away from the _Red Shift_s, which were sprinting at him at top speed. The same _Red Shift _which had fired at him once before fired again, missing its shots. Frank also noticed something.

_Laser takes about 9 seconds to recharge. That mech fires only when it steps forward on the right foot. And how the heck did I spot this pattern anyway?_ Frank was getting convinced he was going insane. He fired off a PPC burst at one of the other _Red Shift_s, the lightning bolt hitting the mech right in its breadbasket. It staggered from the hit but kept on coming.

Despite his best efforts, the stubborn _Red Shift _managed to cut the distance to less than 200 meters. Frank watched the mech carefully, counting down silently in his head as the _Red Shift _aimed its lasers at him.

_Three, two, one, left foot, right foot, duck!_

He jerked the _Hussar _around as the _Red Shift _stepped on its right foot, turning almost a full hundred eighty degrees in a tight arc that made him face the enemy mechs squarely. As expected, the scarlet laser beams cut across the space he would have occupied if he had continued on his course.

Frank fired back with his particle cannon, and its effects were far more apparent. It neatly severed the _Red Shift_'s legs. The mech literally flew across the air as it lost its balance, spinning across the ground in an uncontrolled cartwheel from the loss of so much structure while travelling at high speed. It spun to a stop, a shattered wreck of a mech. _One down._

The other _Red Shift_s came upon him, and Frank whipped his mech away from them. He tried to extend the distance, but they were canny enough to keep up. But he did not need to take out every one of them. He only needed to shake them long enough to destroy the cargo trucks.

Frank adjusted his course several times, until he was finally headed towards the cargo trucks with the _Red Shift_s behind him. The unknown arty mechs must also have tacked onto his plan, because two of them broke off from the line and placed themselves squarely in his path. _Damn… Looks like the hard way then._

The arty mechs fired, and suddenly Frank realized they were not aiming for him but rather the place he was going to be. The area effect of the high explosive saturation rounds would do the rest. He leaned back into his command couch as the _Hussar_ was buffeted by tremendous explosions.

The wire outline of the mech turned from green to yellow almost immediately. Frank gritted his teeth. No, that wasn't going to stop him. Not nearly enough. He caressed the trigger on his targeting stick, and the blue tinged particle bolt arced towards a canister being lifted by a cargo truck. The shot slammed into the canister.

The particles easily set off the Arrow IV missile explosives contained in the missiles, and the hot flaming shrapnel from that one canister flew out to hit the other canisters in the cargo truck and even the loaded canisters in the mech. The mech was thrown to the ground like a rag doll while the ground trembled with the force of the explosion.

The other arty mechs were barely fazed, and stabbed at him with their lasers. Frank twisted the _Hussar_ in its path in ways he never knew he was capable of, evading their shots, sometimes by mere inches. One mech fired at him in an almost unavoidable pattern, and Frank simply stomped on his foot pedals while punching in several commands on his console, while concentrating on his balance through the neurohelmet.

The _Hussar _stepped on its left foot, then hopped forwards once with the same foot, before resuming its normal movement. The laser beams flashed around the _Hussar_, and one would have hit the mech if it had used the usual left-right movement. Frank still didn't know why he had been able to pull off that move, but he didn't worry any more about it.

Another PPC blast killed a second cargo truck, which had managed to stop its own loading process and thus failed to catch any of the arty mechs in the resulting explosion. _Another two more of those trucks, and I could probably disengage. There's no way I can kill the rest of these bozos in a Hussar!_

But the _Red Shift_s had caught up while he had been evading the arty mechs, and their own laser blasts were pouring all around him. His engine status light blinked to red, indicating the loss of shielding. _Fuck. At least they didn't get my Targeting Computer. Yet._

Another few moments of desperate weaving amongst the arty mechs and the _Red Shift_s got him a shot at a third cargo truck. Frank did not miss this time either, sending another truck up in flames.

The occupants of the fourth truck seemed to know the score, and abandoned their vehicle. Frank ran his mech forward, pursued hotly by the _Red Shift_s and with the arty mechs dumping Arrow IV missiles all around him, and managed to give the truck a swift outstep kick with the _Hussar_, assisted by the heated myomers of the _Hussar_'s TSM system.

One moment the _Hussar_ was running past the cargo truck, the next it was flying through the air, flung by the force of the explosion in such close proximity. The mech crashed head first into the ground after a few moments of flight, gouging a long burrow in the ground before it came to a stop. As it landed, Frank's head slammed into the console with tremendous force despite the straps holding him in his command couch. The straps broke with the sheer force of the impact.

Frank groaned, not quite unconscious, but not able to get his trembling hands around the mech's controls either. Blood flowed into his eyes from a wound on his forehead, cut by something on the inside of the neurohelmet. He tried to shake his head to rid himself of the pounding pain, but his muscles refused to obey his mental commands.

The sound of stomping mech feet made him look up as much as he could. One of those hulking mechs towered over him, and Frank could see the laser weapons ports glowing. He fought the urge to close his eyes. _I'll die with my eyes open._

Then the mech was suddenly rocked by a series of missile impacts. And Frank allowed himself to fall into unconsciousness.

"Get those bastards!" Taffel charged his battered _Marauder_ forward, blowing apart a _Red Shift_ with his PPCs while his units hit the artillery line with whatever they had left, which was still quite considerable.

The Blakist Level II that had placed as a screening force would have been a fearsome obstacle when backed up by the Arrow IV units, but without the threat of the Arrow IV missiles, his force had swept over them in mere minutes. He had then led his force forward to finish the job, only to be surprised by the nature of the artillery units, massive armoured mechs that reminded him of the Clan _Naga _and the Kuritan _O-Bakemono_ designs.

But because of the tonnage needed for the bulky Arrow IV systems, Taffel had been confident they would not be a threat in a mech to mech fight, and he was completely right. Armed only with medium lasers as their secondary weapons, the arty mechs were being taken apart piece by piece by his units' longer ranged weapons. Adept Janey's _Wolverine_ seemed to take perverse delight in savaging one of those mechs as she cut away bits and pieces of its armour in two minutes of combat.

The arty mechs had clearly run out of missiles, and had withdrawn from the field, leaving three of their brethren behind, while the _Red Shift_s had all been killed. The wreck of the _Hussar_ laid near a raging bonfire, and the prisoners were finally away, save for one, the pilot of the _Hussar_.

"Taffel here to Pickup. Get over here. I need you to pick up somebody." Horry had been the real surprise factor. Taffel could see the two destroyed mechs on the field that the _Hussar_ had somehow managed to kill, and he knew that in Horry, he had an asset, even if his loyalty was somewhat suspect. If it wasn't for Horry, the _Red Shift_s would have entered the battle and TAGged his rebels into debris.

The resistance could ill afford to ignore any possible mechwarrior recruit, especially one as skilled as this Horry seemed to be. Taffel had always trusted his gut, and the same instinct that told him to go ahead with the implantation program and the guy's involvement in the convoy was now telling him to save the guy.

The transport truck rumbled past, while the overcast skies foretold rain, which explained the absence of aerospace fighters. Indeed, slight droplets of rain had began to fall as his infantry pulled Horry out of the _Hussar_ and into the truck.

_Time to go,_ Taffel told himself. This had been a good day, by almost any standard. The Word of Blake had lost more than 2 Level IIs worth of mechs, and he had managed to gain two mechs, a _Locust_ and a _Stinger_, as well as a truckload of Comstar personnel and several more mechwarriors. It might not be much, but Taffel knew when to take his victories when he could find them.

As the rebel unit started off for its refuge, Taffel toggled another channel, "Shield, block the sats."

Rod would complete the mission by blocking signals from the orbiting satellites, even though it was unlikely the Wobblies would see anything past the cloud cover. But Taffel hated to take any more chances after the ones he had taken today.

The rebels disappeared into the hills as the rain intensified, the churned ground turning into mud and obscuring their tracks.

"So they succeeded. And he is safe for the moment. In body anyway."

"This has not been without problems. The Blakists know they have a leak."

"Or our security could be compromised."

"We have to be more careful now."

"Yes. We might have to lay a bit lower than usual for a while."

"About the Rewrite technology?"

"The Blakists should be allowed to perfect the technology. The social ramifications if they succeed are staggering. With the technology in the right hands, anything is possible."

"And the only right hands are our hands."

"Indeed."

Well, that's it for this update! Frank's Excellent Terran Adventure has begun, and before long, he'd be glad he got the 'upgrade' at Alcatraz, even if he's gonna take some time adjusting to it and the almost daily crippling migraines for the next few months. And he's now more willing to kill too.

The start and end of this chapter is the hint towards the conspiracies and plots that might punctuate Frank's chapters. It's going to get a bit more complicated before long.

The arty mechs debuting here are of course the _Sphinx_es I presented in a previous chapter. The cargo trucks are courtesy of some designer on HMP. Here are their stats. I modified the original slightly to get this.

Type/Model:    Cargo Truck 

Mass:          20 tons

Equipment:                                 Items    Mass

Int. Struct.:  10 pts Standard               0      2.00

Engine:        60 I.C.E.                     0      3.00

    Cruise MP:   4

     Flank MP:   6

Heat Sinks:      0 Single                    0       .00

Cockpit & Controls:                          0      1.00

Crew: 2 Members                              0       .00

Turret Equipment:                            0      1.50

Armor Factor:   24 pts Standard              0      1.50

                          Internal    Armor

                          Structure   Value

   Front:                     2          5 

   Left / Right Sides:        2        5/5 

   Rear:                      2          4 

   Turret:                    2          5 

Weapons and Equipment    Loc  Heat  Ammo   Items    Mass

--------------------------------------------------------

1 Cargo Lift Hoist       Turret   0          1      3.00

8 Cargo Bays             Turret   0          8      8.00

--------------------------------------------------------

TOTALS:                           0          9     20.00

Items & Tons Left:                           0       .00

Calculated Factors:

Total Cost:        134,750 C-Bills

Battle Value:      24

Cost per BV:       5,614.58

Weapon Value:      0 / 0 (Ratio = .00 / .00)

Damage Factors:    SRDmg = 0;  MRDmg = 0;  LRDmg = 0

BattleForce2:      MP: 4W,  Armor/Structure: 0 / 1

                   Damage PB/M/L: -/-/-,  Overheat: 0

                   Class: GL;  Point Value: 0

Well, not much else I would like to say, except that I hope this belated Christmas present would be well received. Now for the reader comments, just added and edited.

**Marwynn**: Hope this was on time. Frank, as you saw, had anal probes. Oops!

**Ngtm1r**: I'm beginning to wish for easier combat scenes, but complexity seems to be good if done well. Kudos to Loren for a great job in By Temptations and By War. I use him, Stackpole, and Charrette as my guides.

**Aeain**: There should be quite a bit of action left.

**Eddy_s**: Acme Industries is a pretty nifty idea… I should try to put it in… As for the dowry, for about Hawkings' life? Heh.

**Tangmeister**: It wouldn't be fun if battles were one way all the time, right? Sometimes retreat is a better option.

**Lord Kaizar**: Glad to know that you enjoyed the story. Keep on reading!

**Mauler 5150**: I'm slow for this chapter, so I'm not fast at all. Okay, I had an overseas competition and a tight carolling schedule, which ate up all of my time, but at least I got this out before the new year. Whew! As for the number of licks, it only takes one. The Urbie is that easy to lick.;)

**Gethen**: Planning? What's that?!? Trust me when I say that like Robert Jordan, I only have the end scenes in mind and very little of the middle plot fixed down. The danger of that, of course, is lengthiditis. And technobabble is something I'm trying to put in, but just doesn't come across as such. Oh well.

**Mbwun**: How about a real killer MAD-5S here? 2 ER PPCs and a gauss rifle can make anybody's day!

**Rick**: Decent sized mech fics are all over. You just have to know where to look. Heh.

**Duo**: D-Wolf with 6 LPLs? CHEESE!!! Assault mechs are perfect for taking fixed positions or against enemy strong points. I don't care what people say about arty being able to do the same job. There's a reason behind the heavy M1 tanks that the US Army uses.

**Sphinx**: Frank won't ever get an assault or even a heavy mech for the entire Terra campaign. He's stuck to light, mediums, tanks, and even a hoverbike that goes Mach 2(eat that, Star Wars speederbike losers!!!).

**Elven 14**: I would love you to eat my homework, but I would fear for your health, as they are carcinogenic… :D

Next chapter is back to Landsmark. Battles galore and confusion reigns supreme!

BTW, I got accredited in Loren's By Temptations and By War, and I have to say it is one of the top 5 Btech novels ever. Go get it!!! Forget about Delrio and Vardeman! Support the REAL Btech writers!!!


	16. Calderon

_Everything's always messed up in war. __Battle__ revolves around a set of risky moves that are often all too easily matched by the opponent._

_Assumptions of enemy fallibility, which for some reason was behind most lopsided victories in the Inner Sphere for a long time, was an extremely dangerous way to wage war. After my experiences in the Chaos March, I knew better than to rely on enemies being fat, dumb, and happy._

_Never forget that the enemy have brains as well, and that they can, and do, think better._

-_Ian Calderon_

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_Samantha, Taurus,_

_Taurian Concordat, Periphery_

_30th September 3068_

"How are things?" Grover Shraplen demanded as he stalked angrily around his office, working off his pent up frustration. It had not been a happy month for him, with the media stepping up their attacks on him and clamouring for him to step down in light of recent events. The downturn in the Concordat's economy over the last few months was also another factor, as he had barred and blocked many trade efforts with the hated Davions. It was, he had decided at the time, a necessary sacrifice, but evidently most people did not see it that way.

Eric Sunds shook his head, "We've lost contact with Landsmark's HPG. Their last transmission reported that there were _two_ pirate groups present, as well as elements of the Red Chasseurs. Most importantly, as you know, Ian Calderon is on the planet, and not on the _Farstrider_ when it was captured."

"There was only supposed to be one band." Grover's tone was flat, accusing. "It was the other group of pirate scum, the _Shen Se Tian, that_ made Calderon go to the planet."

Sunds tried to defend himself, "I don't know what happened. I only asked for a single unit. Maybe if we ask Brenda Calderon…"

"She won't offer us anything." Grover said, recalling his past experiences with the retired Marshal. "She's in a minor revolt of her own. Bitch."

Sending troops from New Vandenburg was out of the question, while some snitch with a loud mouth in 1st Corps had leaked to the media that they were being held back from Landsmark on the Protector's express orders. It was true enough, but officers were supposed to keep their mouths shut. The ensuing media firestorm was something he did not need at all. Grover did not see why they didn't target Brenda, who had strangely stayed silent on the issue. Because everybody knew that, _were supposed to know_, when push came to shove, Brenda Calderon could simply flip him the finger and send the troops there anyway. Strange that she hadn't.

"We can try sending our own troops, mercenary units loyal to you," Sunds suggested.

Shraplen toted up the numbers. "They'll not reach there in time. One way or the other, the matter will be settled without our input. Let's just hope it ends in our favour." Meaning that Ian Calderon was removed.

The two men stared at each other uneasily in the office as they contemplated the other possibility. The very unpalatable possibility.

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_Landsmark__,_

_Taurian Concordat, Periphery,_

 "Does anybody have doubts about the plan?" Leloni Furey took a long and careful look at her gathered warriors, none of whom had any questions. "If not, then get to your mechs. We shall show them the fury of the Jaguar." They stood up as one, saluted, and left the barn they were using as their briefing room for the makeshift mech bays just a few meters away in the small town of Kopra.

After the last warrior had left, Milton Hawkings, tied up on a chair in a corner, said, "Jenna, please, stop this. Doesn't the vow you made to defend the Concordat mean anything?"

Furey scoffed, throwing her head back haughtily. "I am Leloni Furey, not Jenna Doe. Her vows mean nothing to me. The only vows I remember are those to my clan."

Milton nodded, as though expecting such an answer. "Then why haven't you killed me yet?"

_That _was something Leloni refused to think about in the past week. She had been tempted to kill him, but something in her just refused to. She wondered if she had grown soft. But his question still demanded an answer, and she had prepared a perfectly logical one.

"I have not killed you because my men have told me of your importance as a merchant to this realm, and I see no reason to kill you when I could extract a handsome ransom for your continued well being. The clan needs resources, and you might just help us get it."

He stared at her for long moments, and Leloni stared back into his eyes, steeling herself against the strange emotions that threatened to overcome her. There was the urge to simply rip his throat out, but there also was the urge to cut him free.

She shook her head again. This was no time to confuse herself. She did not trust herself to look at him again, so she just walked out of the room before he could say anything else which might compel her to talk to him again. She needed her full concentration for the coming battle. To a waiting tech, she said, "Take the prisoner back to join the other prisoners." The tech nodded, and went inside the room.

Her scouts had managed to locate the Syphon Blades, who were lounging around their dropship, seemingly at a loss after the death of their leader. Despite that, they still have a sizable stash of clan technology, technology which she intended to relieve them of. They would be her first target.

The _Shen Se Tian_ could wait. They were hurt, hurt very badly by the Taurians, and running scared. Leloni did not want to sully her honour chasing down such unworthy foes. There'd be time to hunt them down when the rest of the clan arrived.

As for the Taurians, she would prefer that they stay out of the whole business entirely, for reasons she could not articulate to herself. After careful examination of the garrison and interrogation, she knew that if pressed to the wall, the Taurians might even be willing to unleash nuclear weapons onto the last of the Jaguars. Better to beat the Blades and _Shen Se Tian_, get their mechs, dropships, and supplies, and pull out of the system with the _Osis__' Pride_. No point in risking the future of the clan for a few more mechs, even if some of those were clan technology.

Leloni strode briskly to her new mech, a _Battlemaster_ salvaged from the _Shen Se Tian_. It was a old tech mech, still outfitted with single heat sinks, but they had managed to retrofit a clan large pulse laser onto it to provide more hitting firepower at long range. It was still no real match for modern Inner Sphere mechs, but Leloni was confident she'd be able to coax the most out of the beast. It was the warrior that was important, not the machine.

It was unsettling for her to realise that she did not learn that as a Smoke Jaguar. Which meant it had somehow come from the part of her that was Jenna Doe, loyal soldier in the Taurian Defense Force and from interrogation of their captured Taurian prisoners, a _ristar_ in the military.

Leloni did not know if she was to feel appalled or flattered.

Soon, her mech was striding across Landsmark, leading a full binary of mechs towards the location of the Blades. Behind her, the rest of her tech crews and prisoners followed in several trucks and salvage vehicles. She was not going to leave them undefended at Kopra.

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"Come in, Lion," Ian Calderon called from his _Awesome_.

"This is Lion." Xie Xun replied from his _Men Shen_. "The group at Kopra are moving out."

"Understood." Ian nodded in the anonymity of his cockpit, more to himself in affirmation of his own predictions. With their recon satellites show down during the arrival of the Syphon Blades, he had been forced to fall back on traditional methods to get his battlefield information, and Xie's _Men Shen_, configured to carry an extensive electronics package, was the best choice, even better than the _Raven_ on which it was based on the basis of having better armour, weaponry, and speed. There was a reason why the _Men Shen_ was often called a '_Raven_ on steroids' on the killing fields of the Chaos March and the former St. Ives Compact.

After the disastrous, chaotic battle of last week, he had led a detachment to the site for salvage and recovery, only to find that the mech wreckage remaining had been stripped of most of their usable equipment. They had only turned up a few troopers who had managed to hide out in the nearby area.

From the information he had been able to amass from his scouts, one faction of the Syphon Blades, the ones which held the field at the very end, had turned up at the abandoned town of Kopra, with all the salvage that was missing from the field. From his estimates, they had about 2 to 3 lances of mechs, after a week of repairs.

The other faction of the Syphon Blades had been cut down to about 2 lances bunkering around their dropship. They still had quite a few clan omnis, which would make them very tough foes in a fight.

Then there was the _Shen Se Tian_, battered beyond belief. From the almost 2 companies they had landed, they had only 7 mechs, all hurt and badly damaged. Ian didn't think they had enough technical support to get the mechs into any kind of fighting condition in just one week, but he had been surprised before, so he deployed a small detachment of infantry to keep tabs on them.

As bad as those were, the _Shen Se Tian_'s losses paled in comparison to the defenders'. Subaltern Hurgens' actions had made Ian seethe with anger, costing them so much in men and material. The man's stubbornness and refusal to pull back had been the major factor in their losing almost 2 full companies of Red Chasseurs in the battle. The Taurians still had a full company of mechs remaining, and are numerically the strongest force standing, but things should had been much better.

Ian understood why Hurgens did not pull back. He knew it was not in the nature of Taurians to retreat in the face of pirates and bandit scum. But this sort of attitude was dangerous and short sighted. The good thing was, most of the stubborn ones had died with Hurgens, leaving the shell-shocked remainder to sit through Ian's scathing lecture on group responsibility and the big picture.

Needless to say, he expected better the next go-round.

This time, the entire mechanized force of Taurian mechs and vehicles were sitting about a hundred clicks away from the _Shen Se Tian_ dropship. He had wanted to take the Capellan pirates out _only _if he was sure the other two groups were busy with each other.

Of course, Ian still wondered why he had not received any word by jumpship of incoming reinforcements. With the HPG down due to a prior strike, he had sent the Red Chasseurs' jumpship back to New Vandenburg for help.

He was tempted to just hold back from engaging, but again, every minute the pirates were left unchecked meant that they were free to plunder, pillage, and rape. There had already been reports of several towns razed to the ground by enraged Syphon Blades, the faction which did not hold the field. They had also killed many of the men and taken advantage of the women, which made Ian's blood boil with fury.

The ones at Kopra, by comparison, did not act like typical pirates. They did take material possessions, but did not touch the populace. And one interesting fact stood out. The Kopra group did not take any jewellery or typical valuables. What they took were mostly stuff that an army really needed, like vehicles, electronics, and food.

The Shen Se Tian hung around their dropship, doing nothing. Ian intended to make sure they would never do nothing else after he pounded them into the ground.

"Uh, this is Check Four, situation." Another of his scouts, this time the commander of the scout unit sent to keep tabs on the _Shen Se Tian_. "The bandits are on the move from their dropship."

"Affirmative." Ian replied to signal that the message had been received. _Why are they moving?_ Ian frowned, thinking hard, before it hit him.

He snapped, "All units, start moving to grid 380925! Move it, move it!" The mechs began moving according to his instructions, sending up great clouds of dust and sand as the giants of metal started their march.

"Boss?" It was Benny.

Ian answered the unspoken question, "That's where the Syphon Blades dropship is. Considering the circumstances, I think they've come to an arrangement with the _Shen Se Tian_."

"So that means what, exactly?" Daniela asked.

"They were waiting for somebody to hit them, and then the other pirate band would hit them in the back. They've formed an alliance of convenience, I think. The Kopra group is going to get murdered, but if we get there fast enough, we might be able to finish this whole thing."

From the situation on the map, Ian could see his force was already behind the _Shen Se Tian _by about 30 minutes, and the pirates would only need 90 minutes to get to the Syphon Blades. He punched up the planetary map, seeking some way to cut that time deficit. If his force arrived too late, the two pirate bands would likely have won already, and trying to defeat their combined force would be difficult if not impossible, and definitely impossible if they had the chance for repair and salvage. But if he could get there before they killed off the Kopra group…

_This ends, now, _Ian swore to himself silently.

Then somebody reported, "Their dropship is lifting off!"

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Leloni kept a close eye on her sensors, waiting for the inevitable red dot on the edge of the radar/magres screen that would herald the arrival of the Syphon Blades.

"Star Captain, enemy mechs detected at 2 o'clock." Her _Hussar_ pilot reported. His light mech was ranging about a kilometer ahead as point recon. "One lance."

_Good_, Leloni thought to herself. If the Blades were going to throw themselves at her unit a piece at a time, she was certainly going to indulge them.

"All mechs, formation beta. Vehicles, hang back, now." She did not want her support elements getting caught in battle if she could help it.

The Smoke Jaguars reacted with the practiced smoothness of veterans, one star leading the way forward with the other star divided into 2 two-mech elements trailing slightly behind and to the sides in a wedge. The remaining _Hussar_ took up a flanking position about 400 meters away from the wedge, ready to flank and get behind the enemy for easy back shots.

The Blades had 4 mechs, two of those clan omnis, a _Stormcrow_ and a _Summoner_. Leloni felt her rage grow as she saw the clan's treasures in the hands of pirates. "Kill them, but try to leave the mechs in salvageable condition!"

The battle began at long range, but the charging Smoke Jaguars suddenly found their momentum lost as their targets suddenly split into two elements, each veering to their flanks.

No matter, she was confident her binary could still kill them, especially piece by piece the way they were offering themselves up to her forces. "Alpha Star, take the group with the _Stormcrow_. Beta Star, take the other!"

They split up, not knowing that they were playing into the hands of their enemies.

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Captain Basir Danes stared intently as the tactical screen of his _Kingfisher_. His Blades could not stand up to the concentrated force of the Smoke Jaguars, but they did not have to. With the Shen Se Tian coming in fast, they only needed to hold off the Jags long enough for the two pirate bands to gang up and grind them into snail snot. So his battle lance was deployed in front in a holding/delaying action. Their orders were simple. Stay alive while being chased by the Jaguars.

It had been an audacious gamble taken by the Shen Se Tian leader, Major Zhang Zhe, when he had contacted the remaining Syphon Blades about an offer to merge their forces. It had taken Basir only moments to accept. The benefits were just too great to ignore.

From then on, they had put together a plan to crush the renegade Jaguars, the planetary militia, _and_ kill Ian Calderon for the bounty. The other man had been less than surprised to hear of the Syphon Blades' actual mission objective, but he had given in at the end, because getting to Ian Calderon was the only way they could possibly ransom for a jumpship. Then they would send him back to the Taurians…

In pieces, of course.

The _Shen Se Tian_ would be on the Jaguars in another ten minutes, while his mechs out in front had done a good job of staying far enough away from the clanners that even their superlative skills and weapons technology could not inflict damage.

As an additional boost, the Shen Se Tian dropship with a substantial number of infantry would be landing right on top of the supply train for the Jaguar forces. The capture of those supplies and equipment would be a very welcome boost.

Sure enough, his scouts out at the contact point soon reported that the _Shen Se Tian_ were almost in position. Now, all his force needed to do was to be the anvil to their hammer. Pressed between the two pirate groups, the Jaguars would be smoked just like the rest of their kind.

"All mechs, forward!" His remaining mechs followed him into the battle.

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"Star Captain, we have mechs at our rear!" Leloni was stunned at the news from a tech in what she thought was a safe area. "They are firing on us!"

"Freebirth!" Leloni cursed. "All non-combat units, break off and escape! Jaguars, we are heading back to destroy these dezgra scum!"

She veered her _Battlemaster_ away from the _Summoner_ she had been chasing, back towards her support elements. Two of her mechs served as rearguard, but they suddenly reported, "Star Captain, the Syphon Blades, all of them, are heading our way!"

_Trap. It's all a trap. _Leloni felt her rage grow. _The Blades made a deal with the Shen Se Tian. Scum, all of them, freebirth scum._ Her eyes became murderous. _Fine.__ Then let us see your victory when all is dust._

"All mechs, turn on the Blades! Kill them all first! Forget about the support elements!" _If the _Shen Se Tian _wants to waste time shooting my trucks, they are welcome to do so. If they want to kill us, they'll have to ignore the support elements._

Then the battle was joined. Two stars of Smoke Jaguars against 2 lances of Syphon Blades. The advantage was theirs, at least until the _Shen Se Tian_ arrived.

Leloni fired her large pulse laser at a hulking _Kingfisher_, the laser darts peppering the centre of the assault mech, while it blazed back ineffectively with a barrage of laser beams.

One of her mechs, a _Javelin_, was vaporised by a stupendous alpha strike from the _Summoner_, which was itself fired upon by her entire Bravo Star. There would not be any zellbrigen. It was survival at stake now, not honour.

Leloni continued charging her _Battlemaster_ through the wall of laser fire thrown up by the _Kingfisher_, screaming in rage as she fired her right arm's large pulse laser, then adding in her array of torso mounted lasers as the range gap shrunk. She did not need to see the damage readouts to know the incredible pummelling her mech was taking from the _Kingfisher_; she could feel every hit.

Then the _Kingfisher_ finally realized what she was doing, and tried to backtrack, but was too late. Her _Battlemaster_ slammed into the clan mech with a shoulder charge, and Leloni followed up with a lash from the _Battlemaster_'s right foot. The _Kingfisher_ crashed to the ground, sending tremors through Leloni's cockpit.

Before she could deliver the killing blow, her _Battlemaster _was hit by a bombardment of long range missiles on the rear armour. The _Battlemaster_ stumbled, then toppled over, with its gyro shot into a thousand pieces scattered throughout the torso cavity. One look at the radar told her that the _Shen Se Tian_ had arrived to aid their fellow pirates.

Crawling on the ground, she managed to lever her mech sufficiently for the large pulse laser at the _Kingfisher_, which was itself trying to get up.

"Die scum," Leloni said as she pressed the trigger, a volley of red flechettes smashing into the _Kingfisher_'s cockpit, puncturing the head armour and killing the pilot inside.

She pressed a button to speak to Hadden, "Hadden, take charge. I am EVA and heading to our trucks."

Klaxons blared out, indicating an imminent engine breach. Leloni punched one fist through an emergency panel, and pulled down a lever. An emergency cockpit hatch opened up, and she rolled herself out into the midst of the battle. She stood up in time to see a massive dropship descend right on top of her support units, just behind the advancing _Shen Se Tian_, which was pressing her remaining mechs hard from the rear.

She stared running for the dropship, not caring if it took her across the battlefield of mechs.

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Milton Hawkings ducked his head to avoid another generous helping of shrapnel, this time courtesy of a nearby exploding ammo truck.

It was from a stray shot from the intense infantry battle around him, as Smoke Jaguar techs took up arms and fought against the stream of pirates from the dropship that had practically landed on top of them. Milton guessed many of those pirates were techs as well, with a smattering of other personnel.

He had managed to free himself from the handcuffs, when his escort had been killed by a stray bullet. Searching the dead guard's body for the key had done the rest. He was still clutching the guard's rifle, keeping his head low and wondering what the hell was going on.

Then a shabbily dressed pirate appeared in front of him, waving a gun in his face, and Milton reacted on instinct. The slug rounds punched through the man's body, and Milton found himself still holding onto the trigger as another pirate appeared in his sights. That pirate collapsed as well.

"Get down!" Somebody shouted, and Milton threw himself to the ground in time to avoid a ferocious salvo of bullets through the space he had just left.

There was no more question on whose side he was on. The pirates were firing on him, the Smoke Jags weren't, and that was good enough for him to know where he stood. Milton propped himself up on the hot, burning remains of a truck, using the smoke and fire to provide some concealment for his position, and fired away.

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"What a goddamned clusterfuck!" Ian exclaimed as he saw the dropship looming over the infantry battle, characterized by the endless chatter of small arms fire and grenade explosions. He had managed to cut the time gap down to 15 minutes, and his forces were finally trickling into the battle.

A quick count of the forces involved told him that he was just in time. Almost all of the Kopra mechs were down, but they had left less than a combined company of Syphon Blades and _Shen Se Tian_ for him.

The way through was clear. But there was the dropship to consider first.

"Fire at will at the dropship!" Ian roared. The _Shen Se Tian_ dropship started firing at his mechs as well, but the weight of a dropship's weaponry on one flank was not the same as that of a full company of mechs, plus vehicles. A company of infantry in 'technicals' followed close behind.

Within seconds, his company had punched through the thick armour on the dropship, all the way into the interior. Then a shot hit the hydrogen tanks.

The resulting explosion flattened the area for tens of meters. Ian fought against the shockwave, pushing his _Awesome_ forward.

"Keep on going! Hit them, hit them hard!" Ian ordered, and his infantry commander charged his troops forward into the trucks of what seemed to be the Kopra group's supply train. The _Shen Se Tian_ and Syphon Blade mechs were shifting to meet his attack, but Ian could already see the only possible outcome.

Planting his _Awesome_'s feet solidly on the ground, Ian opened up with his PPCs at extreme range, the particle bolts smashing an already damaged _Atlas_ down to the ground. Daniela followed up with a searing burst of laser fire, severing the _Atlas_' legs.

The rest of his company moved forward in a V formation, the flanks anchored by their fast movers and the centre of the V anchored by those with the heaviest long range firepower. With nowhere to run, the pirates finally died under the ruthless guns of Ian's battlemechs.

Calderon had no mercy in his eyes for them. They had chosen their lot, and now they would die for the path they had chosen. Getting killed in combat was actually far better than torture and imprisonment in Taurian hands. An extremely common punishment for the worst of pirate scum was death by starvation. Dying in battle would be a mercy.

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Leloni cut down another pirate as she fought her way to secure her supplies. She knew her cause was all but lost, but she would never stop fighting.

She could feel the pain from the wound in her side increase. She could not even remember how she had gotten hit in the first place. Leloni continued to stagger forward, though she could now see Taurian troopers moving in from the distance now.

There were only a few clumps of pirates left, and she headed for them. She knew she was going to die, one way or the other, but she would kill those who had reduced her to this, as much as she could.

"Stop, don't move!" Somebody shouted behind her, and Leloni spun around with her pistol.

To find herself staring right at a battered looking Milton Hawkings.

They pointed their guns at each other, neither one daring to make a move. All around them, gunfire was slowly dying off as the remaining pirates and Smoke Jaguars held their hands up in surrender to the Taurian troopers.

"Do not come any closer, or I will shoot!" Leloni shouted when several soldiers approached her.

"Subaltern Doe!" A Taurian sergeant shouted in surprise. "What are you doing!"

"Everybody back off!" Milton added. He looked at Leloni with that same strange look he reserved for her and nobody else. "Jenna, let's put our guns down slow…"

"I am not Jenna Doe," she hissed, "I am Star Captain Leloni Furey of the Smoke Jaguars!"

Milton stared at her, breathing hard, "Okay then. You hold up your gun. I'm putting mine down." He leaned down slowly, and placed his rifle on the ground, then straightened up again with both his hands raised in the air. "See? Nobody else needs to die today."

She continued staring at him.

Milton started talking, his tone pleading, "Jenna, Leloni, whoever you are, you don't have to do this."

Her hand with the gun started to waver, and she could feel those alien feelings surge up in her again. Leloni tried to muster the will to fire, but there was something that prevented her from moving her finger that last few centimetres.

_You don't want to do this… _There was that voice again. Previously, it had only appeared when she was sleeping, in her dreams. Or were they nightmares? All Leloni knew was that the voice was her, and yet not her at the same time. _They are not your enemies._

_Shut up! _Leloni shot back mentally. _I am a Smoke Jaguar, and I will not live this lie any longer. If I cannot defeat my enemies, I might as well die._

The throbbing pain in her side increased, and Leloni gasped as it arched through her nerves. That was enough to make her aim her pistol somewhere else for an instant, and Milton took the chance, stepping forward and snagging her pistol from her weak hands.

Weak from blood loss, Leloni finally collapsed into his arms, all the while battling the voice in her head.

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"Hold up," Ian Calderon raised one hand, "Let me get this straight. Subaltern Jenna Doe is actually a former Smoke Jaguar officer who lost her memory, and somehow she got them back, and lost her memories of being Jenna Doe?"

Milton nodded glumly. "That's it in a nutshell."

Ian shook his head in disbelief. "That's what the captured Smoke Jaguars are claiming as well, though I didn't quite believe them. What a fucking mess."

"You can say that again." Daniela Mattlov walked over with two cups of coffee, passing them to the two men. "I have talked to her second in command Hadden, and he is being extremely uncooperative, even though he is now technically our bondsman."

Ian groaned. The battle for the planet was finally resolved, and the captured pirates and clanners were being 'debriefed' in the various prison cells of the local city. Salvage operations were still ongoing, and nobody was quite sure how matters had progressed to such a state.

He toted up the total losses of the entire campaign. One dropship, more than a battalion of mechs. More than a thousand soldiers from all sides, and that was without considering the civilian deaths from looting and pillaging from the pirates.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. It was this sort of thing which reminded him why he had opted to remain a mercenary soldier when offers from the houses came for him to be a House regular. Do the job, take the pay, and bug out. No need to worry about collateral damage, civilian deaths, and whatnot.

They sat outside the hospital ward containing Star Captain Leloni Furey, while Milton Hawkings, who had not left her side since the battle, told Ian what he knew.

"So what now?" Benny Greaves asked, one hand on his hip holster, obviously still strung out from the battle.

Ian flicked a thumb at the unconscious woman lying in the bed. "We leave two guards here to watch her. Milton, you're welcome to stay here if you want. Inform me the moment she wakes."

He added, "For the rest of us, we're going to get the answers we have and start putting them together." _Somebody wants me dead, and I'm not sure if I'm going to like the answer!_

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Leloni found herself walking alone on a desolate dust plain. Along the path she was walking on were scattered wrecks of battlemechs. They bore the insignias of many nations, all of which she recognised. The dragon of the Draconis Combine. The comet of Comstar. The Fist and Sunburst of the Federated Commonwealth. The snarling feline of the Nova Cats.

Not knowing what she was doing, she simply followed the path. It was not long before the wrecks of the battlemechs stopped appearing, yielding only a single figure standing in the road ahead.

The Smoke Jaguar officer narrowed her eyes. Maybe she would have some answers from that figure, her features hidden by a hood.

She slowed down as she neared the figure, as though dreading what she would find. Leloni tried to brush that irrational fear away, but it stayed with her, growing with ever step she took towards the figure.

The figure spoke, "Hey there. I have been expecting you." Leloni stiffened. She knew that voice. It was her own.

She snapped back, "What do you want, Jenna Doe?"

Jenna Doe threw back her hood, revealing her face, identical to the one that Leloni saw in the mirror every morning. But there were slight differences. Jenna's eyes were brighter, as though suffused with life, while her own were keen and hard edged. Jenna's mouth was always turned with a half smile; her mouth was always twisted in a contemptuous sneer all the time.

"All I want is my life back."

"Then what about mine?" Leloni replied. "I was here first. You were an aberration. A mistake."

"Maybe. But your path is a dead end. You have no future, Star Captain Furey, while I have one. Your life is one of hate and destruction, a remnant of a dead clan. Mine is an honourable career in the Taurian Defence Force…"

"Traitors to the Star League." Leloni hissed. "The destruction of the Star League could be traced to the New Vandenburg uprisings…"

"And I suppose the Reunification War that killed millions at the formation of the Star League was a good thing, regardless of how many people were killed?" Jenna shot back. "Face it, the clans have no more moral claim on the high ground than anybody else, much like the Star League. Regimes which place no value on human life are scarcely better than bandits and pirates. Like your Smoke Jaguars."

"You dare!" Leloni stepped forward, and swung a fist at Jenna, which the other woman dodged.

Then they were on each other, punching and clawing desperately.

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"Doc!" A nurse yelled out, while Milton stared on in horror. He had been dozing off in a chair next to her bed, and the next thing he knew, Jenna was suddenly quivering, and then progressing into full blown convulsions, her arms and legs thrown everywhere with her mouth opened in a silent scream.

"Jenna!" Milton grabbed one of her flailing hands, talking to her even though it was unlikely she would hear him, "Calm down!"

Meanwhile, the sensor displays set up around the bed were going crazy, especially those registering brainwave activity.

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Jenna ducked one vicious blow, then slammed a palm into Leloni's face. Leloni came away with a bloody, broken nose, but what distressed Jenna Doe was that her own nose also got broken, even though Leloni had not hit her there.

Then Leloni did kick her in the stomach, and Jenna Doe fell back to the ground, clutching her belly. She looked up to see Leloni uncomprehendingly hugging her stomach as well. "What…"

Understanding dawned on her. "We're linked," said Jenna. "If one of us is hurt, so is the other. If I die, you die too."

Leloni stared at her with hatred, "So?"

Jenna sighed, "A truce. A compromise." She stared back at Leloni. "Right now, I'm just a voice inside your head. If this goes on, we'll just kill each other."

"At least it is an end." Leloni seemed resigned to death. "A finish."

"No, it will not end this way," Jenna reached for Leloni, and this time, she did not attack, but focused herself and closed her eyes.

Both women screamed as Jenna touched Leloni. If an observer had been watching the dream, he'd have noticed that their dream flesh was melding together, fusing into a single entity.

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"Shit!" Milton stared on in horror as Jenna finally screamed out loud, as though she was in intense agony. She thrashed around on the bed, her hand almost wrenching itself out of Milton's grasp. "Somebody do something!"

"I've given her a whole lot of sedatives, but none of them are working!" The doctor answered frantically. They stared on helplessly.

Then as suddenly as it had started, she suddenly gave out one final sigh, and collapsed back on the bed. Milton looked at the doctor, who took a glance at the readings.

The doctor blinked, "She's fine, at least from the displays."

"Yes, I'm fine now." The soft murmur came from Jenna.

Milton rushed back to her side. "Jenna? You're awake!"

She coughed, "Water…"

After a sip of water from a cup, she grimaced as Milton helped her to a sitting position, "Ouch. That wound doesn't agree with me."

Milton stared at her. "You're Jenna Doe now, right? Not that psychotic Leloni Furey?"

She smiled tiredly at him. "Well, yes and no. Something happened. I can't explain it. But we have pressing business to attend to first."

"Huh?" Milton was sure she was Jenna, but there was also an edge that she never had before, one that seemed more like Leloni Furey.

She cleared her throat. "Milton, be a dear and tell Commander Calderon I need to speak with him. Also, I want to talk to Hadden. This whole snafu isn't finished yet."

Jenna paused, then plunged on, "There's a Smoke Jaguar warship headed towards Landsmark."

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Ian shook his head in disbelief as they gathered around Jenna Doe's bed. "So you're telling me that in a few days, a _Potemkin_ class warship, the _Osis__' Pride_, is going to jump in and supposedly pull you and the other Smoke Jaguars out."

She nodded, "Yes, and with more than 2 clusters, there is no way you will be able to match them conventionally."

Ian shuddered as he realized what she meant by that last word 'conventionally'. _She knows as well as I do that all Taurian worlds have a stock of nuclear weapons, and if there is a hostile warship in system, the onsite commander has full authorization to release and use them._

"Star Captain!" Hadden protested. "Why are you helping them? This is a severe leak of important information!" Ian guessed Hadden would have tried to attack Jenna, except for the fact that one of his arms was broken and the other was handcuffed to Benny Greaves.

Jenna glared at him, "Shut up, Hadden. I'm trying to resolve this peacefully."

Milton added, "You already spilled the beans back when I was in your jail." He looked sheepishly at Ian, "Slipped my mind. Sorry."

Ian waved it off, "You were worried about Jenna. No big deal."

"When did we ever care about peace! Galaxy Commander Kotare will jump in, destroy all these dezgra scum, and jump out!" Ian thought that Hadden was giving a fair impression of a rabid dog, since he was practically foaming at the mouth.

Ian cut in icily, "Then what you do not know, Star Commander, and apparently have not heard, is that us Taurians have an infamous history of using nuclear weapons in their own territory. What do you think will happen if your Smoke Jaguars jump in? Did you think we'll just lay down and die?"

Hadden was stunned into silence, while Ian turned to Jenna. "But from what you're telling me, I think it's fair to assume you have a plan to avoid that outcome?"

Jenna nodded. "Yes, I thought of something while waiting for you guys to arrive. Hopefully, it'll reduce fighting to a minimum." She looked at Hadden, "No more Smoke Jaguars need to die than absolutely necessary, and if this works, we'll never need to wander around like bandits anymore."

She stared at Ian, "But it'll be one hell of a gamble, Commander. You ready for it?"

"As long as we can avoid further stupid surplus killing, I'm all for it." Ian leaned forward in his chair. "Tell me about your plan."

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Whew! I never thought I'd finish this! I got sidetracked recently, by some other… stuff. Workload this semester is also much heavier, and the modules are tough as heck. Like that Statistical Thermodynamics module I'm taking with just 3 other guys(everybody else avoids it because it'll pull down their overall grade). Ugh, ugh…

Then, my FanPro commandoship came through, and I had to start setting up a local campaign for players.

Finally, I am working on some fics in other genres as well, under another pen name. And no, I'm not saying anything!

**Tangmeister**: Thanks for the review. But it seems like I've slowed down a great deal, though my actual fic and word output has increased. Oops.

**Sphinx**: Hey, I play Max Payne 2! Great game, great soundtrack. 'Last Goodbye' will a sure fire hit on the soundwaves.

**Marwynn**: Heh, no need to say anything to you, since we 'see' each other on cbt.com all the time! BTW, that was a real furore you incited with that Davion F table thread!

**Unarmedbystander**: Did I hit another peak in action writing? Sorry, because I seemed to have lost it again. *SOB*

**Ngtmr1**: That Hussar can be found at my website. But you might need HMP. Hmmm… one of these days I should get all my modifications down on html…

**Medron**** Pryde**: Naw, no need to say anything to you, but for all you others, please check out Medron's excellent website, as well as the epic collaborative work **_Battlecarp_**! You might have to google it to find it, but trust me, it's worth it!

**Eddy_S**: Glossary of military lingo? I dunno, but a rank and title listing on the net is a good idea. Hmmm…

**Roastpuff**: Jacques is going to be beaten to an inch of his life the next time he sees Frank!

**Duo**: I'll try to update faster. Please don't go Yoda on me!

**Thunder**: Heh. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

**Henry Emil**: Urgh, the pressure just keeps piling up!

**Valefore**: I think some of your questions have been answered in this update.

No bonus mechs for this update. Now press that review button!


	17. Meronac

_The resistance movement on Terra when I was there was surprising in the scope and breadth of its appeal to native Terrans. At first composed only of Comstar personnel when the Word of Blake took over, high attrition and lack of popular support almost signalled the death of the resistance movement by 3062._

_Then in 3065, the Word of Blake made a very significant error, when they announced the setting up of several 'Word churches' as well as implementing a slight but definite bias against traditional religions in education. The religious conservatives, especially the Christian and Islamic sects, were furious._

_Next, several Word of Blake initiatives to raise taxes for 'defence' throughout Terra made a lot of people unhappy. It didn't help that they didn't see how they needed such 'defence' considering that in the past, Comstar had always pulled a 'hands off' policy, which included very minimal government except for law and order. Terra's status as the homeworld of humanity made it sacrosanct._

_When the tax rate rose to a staggering 60%, some people in the former United States, especially in Texas, started revolting. The riots in Houston and San Antonio were put down swiftly and efficiently, but the die was cast when several rogue Comstar cameras broadcast the entire action, including the sight of Blakist mechs stepping on people. To support their vast military might and the massive warship fleets they were building for their plans, the Word of Blake had unwittingly dug its own grave. Or maybe they knew all along, and didn't care._

_Within hours, the resistance movement, composing of an eclectic alliance primarily between the "New Libertarians", the "Islamic Coalition", the "Evangelists", and remaining Comstar personnel, was formed, along with a short manifesto. The words of the manifesto would shake the councils of the Inner Sphere for all time._

-_The Word of Blake Contagion_, Frank Meronac

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_Hilton Head, Terra_

_Chaos March_

_1st October 3068_

"These losses are not acceptable, Precentor Martial." The tall, gaunt figure chided Cameron St. Jamais in the Court of the Star League. The figure sat on a wooden chair set slight forward and to the side of the throne of the First Lord. "It was supposed to be a trap for the rebels, not a debacle where we lose so many units for absolutely no gain at all." He lowered the datapad he had been reading, a report of the defeat near San Francisco.

Cameron St. Jamais stared at the disfigured face of the Master. "Sir, the rebels were unexpectedly skilled troops instead of the half trained rabble we were expecting, and more importantly, they had somehow gained access to hijack programs. The use of several escort mechs they captured proved to be crucial."

The Master shook his head slowly, "Were they? Only one captured mech, a _Hussar_, fought. From the battle ROMs we have recovered, one _Hussar_ should have been no match for the _Red Shifts _and the _Sphinxes_."

"The pilot was… exceptional." Cameron offered weakly.

"Ah yes. And if we had more pilots like that, we'd have crushed the rebels already." The Master shrugged. "Oh well. That means we just have to live with them."

St. Jamais was puzzled by the Master's casual manner. "Sir, they are a dangerous thorn in our side. The risk exists that they could find out about our…"

The Master stopped him with a raised hand. "Then I suggest you hurry up those plans for implementation soon, and leave the work of finding and killing the guerrillas to Precentor Brandenburg-Curi."

"Lane may have taken up the task for his 6th Division, but he has been extremely reluctant. Don't forget, he was close with James Taffel."

"And that's why he was our first choice. We thought he would be able to exploit his inside knowledge of Taffel's tendencies." The Master frowned. "Maybe we should reassign it to Vista or Phuong?"

"I think not. 9th and 10th Divisions are not reliable enough in their areas yet, since the entire Americas is one entire hotbed of resistance." Cameron thought he saw a glimmer of satisfaction on the Master's ruined, grotesque face. _What exactly is he up to? _The mechwarrior wondered.

"As long as our research facilities and the details of the 3rd Transfer are secure, they can hurt our physical forces all they want. It would not matter. Soon, St. Jamais. Soon. The time of reckoning is at hand."

"Blake's Will be done. But what about Klaus Hettig and the other heretics? What if they find out and contact the House Lords?"

The Master clasped his hands. "You worry about Erinyes, Stopper, and the other programs. Let me worry about Hettig and Blane."

"Yes, my master." As usual, Cameron got the sensation that the Master was laughing at him behind the mask of his burnt, destroyed face, but the man had proven too many times that he was dedicated to the Toyama's goal of fomenting conflict throughout the entire human Sphere in order to bring about a fall, and then the subsequent recovery, led by the Blessed Order, of course.

Still, he couldn't understand why he had the feeling that the Master was playing for far higher stakes. And why in the Court of the Star League, he steadfastly refused to sit on the throne, only on a wooden chair next to the throne itself. As if there was a heir of the Camerons of the Star League left!

_It's not my problem_,  St. Jamais decided as he bowed to the Master and left the cavernous room. _All of us have our parts to play, and the Master knows what's he doing. After all, all our success so far are due to his planning and foresight._

Walking away from the Court, he did not see the cold calculating light in the Master's eyes.

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_Central America(Mexico)_

Frank Meronac groaned as he pulled himself up. Then he stopped before he could get all the way up.

He was staring right into a pistol. The dark maw of the weapon blocked out almost everything else in his sight.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr Horry," said the owner of the hand holding the Sternsnacht, a grizzled man wearing a scruffy jacket, "You've been taking your own sweet time getting here."

"Who are you?" Frank asked. "Where am I? What is this place?" He looked around, only to find four blank walls and a beat up door in the room, which did not have windows. "What do you want? And get that pistol out of my face!" Frank resisted the urge to slap the weapon away. Somewhere in the back of his mind, there lurked the knowledge of at least four ways he could use to disarm the man and reverse the situation. Frank forced that away as well.

"Cool down." The man frowned at the flood of questions. "Let's not get too excited, eh?"

"Then point that thing away from me. I don't exactly like to stare a barrel in the face."

"Okay." The man holstered the pistol. Frank got the distinct sensation of being tested. "I've put the gun away. Feel better?"

"Yeah, lots." Frank replied with a tinge of sarcasm. "You do that to everybody?"

"Only to those we consider dangerous."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "You think I'm dangerous?"

"A mechwarrior who manages to accomplish an objective despite the stiff odds you faced? Certainly."

Frank grimaced. There was no argument there from him, though he was still in a bit of a daze over how he had done that, and more than a bit groggy from the blow that had knocked him out. "You haven't answered my questions."

The man nodded, "That's right, I haven't. I'm James Taffel. And you are William Horry."

"And the other questions?"

Taffel grinned as he stood up and backed up to the door. "In due time. For now, get yourself up and running." He pointed to a small stack of clothes lying on a small table. "Change out of your prison gear. Somebody will lead you to our meeting room." Taffel offered a smirk, "Don't try anything funny or stupid."

Frank stared at him, and said slowly, "Now why would I want to do that?"

"Good. I'll see you in a short while." Taffel opened the door, and left the room.

Frank looked down at his hands for several seconds. _What have I gotten myself into?_ He shook off his malaise, and climbed out of the bed. In a few moments, he had discarded his prison greys for non-descript T-shirt and pants, plus sports shoes for footwear. It was, he decided, an excellent way to fit into a crowd.

As he dressed, he tried to recall the events of the battle, and then realized that he could not even tell who had won the fight. It seemed that he was picked up by the group that was fighting the Blakists, but then again, the Word of Blake could be staging some elaborate setup for him.

_Just for me?_ Frank scoffed. _Yeah, like, I'm so fucking important. No, this is probably the rebel group who pulled the other prisoners and me out. Now, what do they want, and how do I fit in? Besides, there's still my mission._

He hadn't forgotten his primary objectives. Find out about the Wobblies and what they were doing on Terra, and also to ferret out any data on the secretive Illuminati. Well, if this was indeed a resistance group, one of many cells Jerrard Cranston had told him were present on Terra, then he should be well on his way towards accomplishing the former goal.

In any case, it was far better than rotting away in the Rock, waiting for the Blakists to perform God knew what experiments on him. Frank still wasn't sure what had happened to him, but he was in no particular hurry to find out.

A tough looking Arab man was waiting for him when he left the room. "Follow me," said the Arab as he walked off into the long, dimly lit corridor. The corridor was dark, but there were lights on the ceiling, their pale glow setting off the dark green pipes running alongside the corridor. Frank got the feeling he was either underground or in some abandoned plant. That would explain the lack of windows in the room and the corridor itself, which seemed like a service tunnel.

The other man stayed coldly silent throughout the trip, and Frank did not feel inclined to strike up any small talk either. There was tension in the air, a taut string being pulled and ready to snap at any moment. He couldn't explain it, but Frank thought it might have to do with their surroundings. It's not as if dark places encouraged cheery feelings. They often only served to breed discontent, hatred, pain. Not exactly the best of places to plot resistance to the Word of Blake, but then again, a traditional choice, Frank surmised.

The corridor came to an end, with a flight of metal steps leading upwards. Frank frowned as the Arab stopped and gestured for him to go up the steps. "You go up by yourself."

"Okay." Frank took another look at the Arab before he started climbing the stairs. There was a peek of a gun under the man's battered jacket, and the last thing Frank wanted was trouble.

The stairs ended in a door, which Frank tentatively pushed open to reveal another long corridor, and two more persons, a man and a woman, both middle aged, standing right next to the door. Guards, he guessed, as they looked him up and down carefully, their weapons with safeties off.

"A bit paranoid, aren't we?" Frank commented as they frisked him.

The man replied, "Just because you're paranoid…"

"Doesn't mean they're not out to get you." Frank completed the old adage. "Okay, okay, I get it. Satisfied I'm safe?"

The guards exchanged thoughtful glances, then the woman turned to him and said, "Go down the corridor and through the third door on the left. Boss is waiting for you."

"Thanks. Time I got some answers around here, unless you care to tell me?" The two guards grinned, and shook their heads. Frank shrugged helplessly. "Guess not. Can't fault a guy for asking."

He walked briskly to the door he was pointed to. On the door at eye level was a label with the words "Under New Management". Frank smiled slightly as he rapped sharply on the door.

"Come in!" Frank recognised the voice as James Taffel's. He opened the door, then froze.

There were 5 people in the room, all of them seemed deadly serious, and the looks thrown his way did not seem exactly friendly. Frank felt like he was a kid again, with his hand caught in the cookie jar. The gazes were cool, appraising, studying him. Frank straightened himself, standing to attention almost automatically. What else could he do?

"At ease, Mr Horry." Taffel motioned easily with a wave of his hand. "We're all friends here."

"Uh huh." Other than Taffel, there was an elderly man with white hair in a wheelchair, a small portable computer on his lap. A couple burning with a sort of fanatical fire similar to that seen in the eyes of Wobblies. A swarthy and dark skinned man finished off the assembly.

Taffel smiled slightly, "One thing first. Are you working for the Word of Blake?"

Frank blinked in surprise. "Are you kidding? Of course not!"

The swarthy man nodded and suddenly whipped out another gadget. "He's telling the truth." Frank recognised the device as a Nirasaki Mark IV lie detector, able to measure voice modulations and even heartbeats. That meant they had managed to plant a heart sensor bug on the clothes they had given him. But still, Frank wasn't sure how he knew all that. He couldn't for the life of him remember anybody ever telling or showing him all this, yet the knowledge just popped into his head.

He crossed his arms and stared at each person in the room. "Does everybody go through this?"

Taffel beckoned him to a seat, "Yes. The Word of Blake has many means to infiltrate our organization, and we've learnt that the hard way. So we've come up with counter measures to ensure that every person we consider for recruitment is 'clean'. The other prisoners have gone through the same thing."

"So I pass?"

"If you didn't, you'll be dead." Taffel was deadly serious, and Frank shivered slightly. "I guess you have questions, so feel free to shoot."

Frank leaned forward in his seat, "First things first. Who're all of you?"

"You already know I'm James Taffel. I'm head of this particular resistance cell." He introduced the other people. The old man was Chris Amon. The couple were a husband and wife team, Caron and Hannah Naismith. The swarthy fellow was Hadji Diof.

James then continued, "We have several more people here, and our cell is one of the larger ones. Now, let's discuss how you're going to help us."

Frank blinked. "Excuse me, but what are you fighting for? I didn't quite get the memo."

Chris Amon smirked, "It should be obvious. We are fighting against the Word of Blake for our freedoms."

"No offence, but that doesn't tell me exactly why I should join you guys."

"Fair enough." James agreed. "But let's consider the facts. You were a prisoner held by the Word of Blake for intending to subvert people to the Unfinished Book, and more importantly, during your jailbreak…"

"Which you arranged for." Frank was compelled to point that out. Also, he was more than a bit encouraged by Taffel's mentioning of his false identity and the faux reason for going to Terra. That meant the Word of Blake had not blown his cover. _Should I tell them who I really am and why I am here? But why does everybody think I'm with the Unfinished Book movement? _All Victor bloody Davion had told him was that he was just to be a tourist!

Taffel admitted, "Okay, we arranged the breakout, but you took full advantage of it. Let the Blakists catch you, and you'll find your next stay in prison much less comfortable." As if he wanted any more of that torture if he had a choice.

"I'm not planning on going back."

"Then how are you going to stay free?" said Taffel, "Furthermore, you can forget about going offworld. They've been DNA-screening offworld passage for the past 2 years. And they definitely have your data on file."

Now that was something he had not considered. The initial plan called for him to contact the resistance, convince them, obtain whatever information they had, then get out, all the while posing as a tourist and religious pilgrim. Now with him as a wanted man, and the Word of Blake obviously DNA-screening everybody leaving Terra, leaving was an impossibility.

At least it looked that way to him right now .

"I don't have a choice, do I?" Frank glared at Taffel.

"You're a good mechjock, and we have a desperate need for mechjocks." Taffel explained. "The Word of Blake is up to something, and we're trying to find out what it is, as well as making Terra too hot for them to hold."

Amon took over, "For the past few years, the Wobblies have been forcing their religion down our throats. Many of us did not like that, and recently the situation got worse when they decided to raise our taxes."

Then it was back to James. "We don't know what they doing with all that money, but it's a huge outlay of funds. One of our goals is to find out where the money is going, so that we can inform the Houses and Comstar."

"And hopefully bring them in to liberate Terra?" Frank raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think the Houses are any better?"

"Well," Hadji replied, "Comstar had been in charge for the past 200 years, and things were fine. They never tried to convert us the way the Wobblies are doing. That's a huge point in their favour, and their present secularism helps too."

"So we need to fight back, make them tip their hand, find out what they're doing. Join us, and make the homeworld of humanity free." Taffel looked at him expectantly.

Frank was again tempted to tell them his real mission. _No, no need to blow my cover just yet._ "Sounds very nice." He sighed. "Okay, I'm in." There was a faint buzzing in his head, but Frank ignored it.

"Good," said Taffel, "We need to show you around, introduce you to the rest of our group." The buzzing grew louder, and Frank frowned, prompting Taffel to ask, "Is anything the matter?"

"Do you hear that? Some buzzing sound." Frank grimaced as the buzzing intensified, almost becoming painful. "In fact, it's getting worse."

Then the buzzing suddenly erupted into a full scale assault on his brain. Frank collapsed to his knees, clutching his head in agony for barely a second before he slumped to the floor, overcome by the pain.

He didn't even have time to scream.

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"What you're telling me is that his brainwave patterns are screwed up, and it's my fault?" Taffel exclaimed, incredulous at the turn of events. He were in a room equipped with various instruments, the small but highly advanced medical bay that they used. Horry was sleeping on a bed nearby.

Hadji nodded, "When you interfered with whatever the Wobblies were doing, it saved his life, or rather his mind, but there were… side effects." Contrary to his appearance, Hadji Diof was a doctor. 

"Like that headache?"

Diof grimaced, "Not just a headache. More than a regular killer migraine."

Taffel winced. "He won't be very happy when he wakes up."

"That's an understatement." Hadji continued,  "He's still conscious, but he cannot function normally when the migraine is in effect. I've tried some painkillers, but they're next to useless. So I decided to give him some sedatives, so at least he's sleeping it off."

"How long does each attack last?"

"About half an hour. As to when each attack happens," Diof shrugged helplessly, "Only Allah knows."

"Damn." That made things very tricky. Could he still use Horry as planned?

A groan from the bed alerted them that Horry was awake. "What hit me?" The man asked.

Hadji glanced at Taffel, "Do you want to explain it to him, or leave it to me to clear up your mess for you?"

Taffel sighed, "I'll do it. Look, Mr Horry, there's something I need to tell you…"

By the end of his explanation, William Horry was, quite predictably, pissed. And ranting loud and hard, even if he wasn't exactly shouting. "Now I know why I know so much. Like what a _Hussar_ is. What that stupid arty mech back during the battle was carrying. Even the Nirasaki Mark IV you, Mr Diof, was using. Jesus Christ!" He threw up his hands in disgust. "I just got my brain lobotomised and rewired!"

"Calm down." Taffel said, "Now, except for those headaches, you're a lot better than before, aren't you? And if I hadn't interfered, you'd been dead, o I guess you should show me a bit of gratitude." The way Horry had talked had also piqued Tafel's own suspicions. "Besides, I think you were already a mechwarrior before you got 'lobotomised'."

Horry stared back for a few moments. "What makes you say that?"

"One, the way you acted during the battle. Even with the stuff that was dumped into your brain, a person doesn't change into a mechwarrior in a few seconds, or even a few days. It takes a certain… personality. Second, if you weren't a mechwarrior before this business, you'll have known something was wrong when I talked to you about recruiting."

Taffel stared at him, "Who are you really, William Horry? I don't think you're the Unfinished Book evangelist the Word of Blake thought they had."

"I was a former mech jock in the AFFS. I quit after the Civil War, and decided to use some of the money I had saved up for a vacation. I'm no Unfinished Book subversive! I was just a tourist!"

Taffel raised an eyebrow. "And you just happened to choose Terra for a vacation spot. Huh."

Horry replied hotly, "Look, no matter what, I'm not working for the Word of Blake, after what they did to me. If you want me to fight for you, fine. But in my condition, you'll be nuts. What if I get a migraine attack in the middle of a fight?"

"Then we'll just take our chances." Taffel nodded grimly. "We're short on mechwarriors, and if the stuff in your brain does pan out, you'll be very helpful to us."

Then he held up one hand to halt Horry's protest. "But even with all that stuff in your brain, you're not ready yet. We're sending you to training camp first. You need to get into combat condition."

"Boot camp again? Oh please!" Horry rolled his eyes.

"No, something… different." Taffel grinned.

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Frank cursed Victor Davion, Yvonne Davion, Ian Calderon, even Lorik, as he sat in the small infantry bay of the APC, heading down a dirt road. It was broad daylight, but he could barely see his own fingers with the dense jungle canopy blocking out the sun. It was all their fault that he was stuck in this mess.

It had been three days since Taffel had packed him and a bunch of former prisoners off from their small base in an abandoned factory in Mexico, heading south to Panama and then into Brazil. He had three more migraine attacks, each one just as bad as the previous one, which killed any hopes he had that he would adapt to the pain. The only good thing that he could see was that he would only have one attack per day. Unfortunately, there was still no way to predict when each attack would occur.

Frank had his own theories about why he wasn't dead from the treatment the Wobblies had given him, but he certainly wasn't about to share it with anybody until he had the chance to do some research of his own. _I suffered a gauss capacitor feedback shock back on Einstein. I have had my head knocked around a few times before. Some of the stuff they put in, I already knew. Were these why I'm still alive?_

"Heads up, Bill." It was Tiekink, a fellow prisoner liberated and reluctant volunteer for the resistance. "The van's slowing down."

The APC stopped with a series of lurches, and then the doors opened wide, yielding a large dim and shaded clearing. There were several huts and buildings in the clearing, and a bunch of people lounging around. The rebel recruits got out of the van, then formed up into several untidy rows in front of an old and grizzled man wearing a formal Comstar uniform adorned with what seemed to be very impressive rank and campaign insignia. Frank thought he saw the flash of the Precentor's Sword on the man's collar, as well as several Tukayyid campaign ribbons. _God, not one of those lifers…_

He boomed, sounding very much like the drill sergeants Frank had experienced back at the OMTC. "Ladies and gentleman, I am Adept Gustav Castro. You are here to engage in a series of training programmes that will turn you from useless bums into cannon fodder to throw off the harsh yoke of the Wobblies!" _Crap, he's a lifer all right. We're doomed._

Gustav Castro smiled maliciously, then barked, "_Welcome to the Jungle_!"

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_Welcome to the jungle _

_We've got fun 'n' games _

_We got everything you want _

_Honey, we know the names _

_We are the people that can find _

_Whatever you may need _

_If you got the money, honey _

_We got your disease _

_CHORUS: _

_In the jungle _

_Welcome to the jungle _

_Watch it bring you to your _

_knees, knees _

_I wanna watch you bleed_

Okay, okay, I got a bit carried away, but hey, it was fun anyway. The older readers should know the band that performed this song, and the younger ones can google it up.

**Aeain**-Wait, and wait, and wait. Oops, I have to work on my other fic now, because people are screaming for new chapters. :P

**Marwynn**-More Meronac, yup. Bit of a downer, this chapter. Oh well, next chapter will have kung-fu action. Please watch the Chinese swordfighting movies Hero and Stormriders. Especially the bamboo sword duel. Awesome stuff.

**Medron**** Pryde**-Yeah, the formatting went a bit… awry. Oh well. Damn ff.net for automatically cutting out spaces such that I have to use lines instead to separate sections.

**Sphinx8**-Uhm yeah, when's your next chapter coming out?!? *goes back to typing furiously on his own fics*

**eddy_s**-Taurians are not famous for their aerojocks. That's the Outworlds Alliance. Jenna did bring fighters along, but note that I mentioned that the fighters were left with the jumpships to aid in the recovery of the hijacked ships, and were unable to traverse the interplanetary distance from the jump point to the planets without dropships. You see, I think of almost _everything_. *cue evil laughter*

**Duo**-I'm writing more, I'm writing more. More than a thousand words per day, you know!

**Roastpuff**-Hurry up and wait! Hurry up and wait! *pants for breath like a dog*

**Henry Emil**-My exams are over, and so are my 4 years of university torture! WOOT!!! Now, only have to sweat out my results and hope for that honours degree… I'll be working almost full time on my fics. Well, excepting my 'duties' as part of the commentariat at Samizdata.net…

**Yeth**-Shhh… and it's not simple either. Hehehehehe…

**Frankenstein**-Take my time. Hmmm… one dissenting voice amongst the 'pressure' reviewers! Hah!

**Tangmeister**-You slacker you! Taking time off from work to read my crap! ^_^

**Strikepenguin5**-Dude, you are so wrong on the would/will business. All fiction novels use 'would' within the narrative. Besides, you wouldn't(heh) argue with an English language major, hmmmm? BTW, when are you working on your fics? As for the TRO, I dunno. I can't quite remember, though I have my own TRO: 3070 Crusade, and still undergoing changes and revisions in the fluff text.

**UnarmedBystander**-Okay, I'm going to be a bit faster these days. Since it's my holidays and all!

Next chapter brings us to… Irece! And things get interesting and more than a bit strange for Descartin Winters!

Readers eager for more of my stuff to read can very well hunt out my works… **_elsewhere!!! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!_**


	18. Winters

_It would be instructive to note that during the conflict, both sides of the internecine civil war refrained from involving the Nova Cats as much as possible. It seemed that there was an unspoken contract that left the Cats ready to oppose any Ghost Bear movement into the Inner Sphere, a sign that as much as Jubei Kurita wanted to stick to the traditional Combine rhetoric of xenophobia, he was pragmatic enough to leave the Cats alone to guard the clan border, until such time as he could deal with them._

_More than that, the Cats themselves seemed to want no part in the conflict, even with Minoru Kurita as their Oathmaster. Despite the dissolution of the Star League, the Cats seemed to have an inner line on what was about to happen in the future, and they still held strongly to their duty of defending the Inner Sphere, refusing to take any side in the civil war._

_In hindsight, perhaps their visions aren't so much quackery after all._

-_Clan Nova Cat in the Jihad, _Messner Grolieck

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_Ways of Seeing Park_

_New Barcella, Irece_

_Irece Prefecture, Draconis Combine_

_20th October 3068_

Descartin Winters slung his duffel bag over a shoulder as he enjoyed the cool air of the early morning. The sun had not risen yet, and the soothing serenity of the park was a welcome salve on his mind after the constant din on the dropship.

His trip from Avon to Irece had been unusually fast, with hand offs at several jump points. The dropship had arrived at the planet's midnight hour, and Descartin was still trying to adjust his own body clock. Secorra and him were shown by several members of the clan merchant to their rooms, but Descartin found himself unable to sleep, hence this walk in the park. When morning arrived, he would set out for the nearby genetic repository first, fulfilling the promise he made to Jaime Wolf.

He carried his meagre belongings with him, the duffel bag with the _giftake_ of the fallen Dragoon warriors, his music scores and his _vineers_, as well as the _daisho_ Theodore Kurita had presented him hanging loosely from his belt. He found a small bench under a street lamp, and sat down on it, feeling the cool breeze on his face. _I wish Isis was here._

Thinking of her, he remembered the photograph they had taken with young Kitsune at the carnival. Descartin smiled at the memory, then took out his wallet, and looked at the photo tucked into one of the folds of the wallet.

He was holding Isis in the picture, and Descartin felt like laughing at his own bewildered look in the photo. Now that he had time to look back and reflect, those few days were some of the happiest in his entire life.

Perhaps Isis was right, that fighting and war were not everything. He wished he could take back his decision on Avon when he had not gone with her. He wished he had the courage to face his own emotions, take a chance to love. He wished he was holding Isis again, instead of being alone in the park. He tucked the photo carefully back into his wallet, in between a particular slot that enabled him to see the picture through a plastic cover.

The stars glittered in the night sky, and a faint fog permeated the park as Descartin watched the quiet park in solitude. The trees swayed gently in the breeze, and the dried leaves on the ground rustled softly around his feet. Descartin closed his eyes, enjoying the peace, soothing his soul.

A faint sound attracted his attention, and Descartin opened his eyes, seeking the sound from within the fog. _It sounded like steel on steel… swords?_

Curious, Descartin got up, and walked cautiously in the direction of the sound, into the fog. As he neared, he heard more of such metal sounds, and it sounded very much like swordfighting. He placed one hand on his katana, and advanced slowly, ready to pull out his own blade in defence.

He happened onto a strange scene. Six black clad men were surrounding a single black haired Asian man in the area of the park. There was already one headless black corpse on the ground, and the head itself was about two meters away from the body.

The black haired man carried a bloody katana, which he had obviously used to decapitate the person who was now a corpse on the ground. Descartin noted the insignia of the Nova Cats on the man's clothes, a loose fitting tunic and pants suitable for exercising. The man himself was lean and well-muscled, moving with a fluid grace that rivalled a nova cat. He stood calmly in the middle of his attackers, as though it was just a stroll in the park, looking at them confidently. Descartin admired the man for his composure and poise.

He also had no doubt whose side he would take. Descartin drew his katana and wakizashi from their scabbards, the swords sliding out of their positions with an encouraging hiss, as though eager for blood in the early morning.

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Minoru Kurita, Oathmaster of Clan Nova Cat, held his weapon calmly, waiting for his enemies to attack. Six on one odds were never good, but he was both a samurai and a warrior of the clans, and he would not go down without a fight.

He had been restless the entire night, turning and tossing in his bed before he decided to give in to his instincts, leaving his quarters for an early morning jog. Something told him to do this, the strange sensation much like being guided by a vision. The previous Oathmaster, Biccon Winters, had told him to let those sensations guide him, and Minoru took her words to heart.

Upon reaching the park, where he planned to practise some katas, he had sensed that he was being followed. Minoru had then shouted for the assassins to reveal themselves.

On appearing, they claimed that they had been sent by the Black Dragon Society to rid the Kuritas of a traitor to the House, but Minoru had sensed that it was not the truth, though they believed it themselves. Nevertheless, one of them had attacked him, thinking that he was not armed with a weapon, defenceless and thus easy prey.

Minoru had slain the assassin in just five seconds, grabbing the assassin's blade between his hands and delivering a swift kick to the man's knee, and then pulling the katana out of the man's grasp and cutting him down.

He now stood within the circle of his enemies, allowing his _ki _to flow freely through his body, focusing himself by attuning all of his senses to the combat at hand. He raised his katana in a defensive posture, and beckoned wit his free hand. "Come. Attack singly or in groups. It will not matter. I am a loyal scion of Kurita, and traitors such as you will only taste your own blood in defeat."

"Then you shall die." The man Minoru had identified as the leader snarled through his mask. "Death by the blade is a greater honour than you deserve."

"Cowardly curs such as you have no business challenging a real warrior," a voice spoke suddenly, and they stared as a tall, scarred blond man walked out of the fog like a ghost, wielding a blade in each of his hands. In the dim light of the street lamps, he seemed ethereal, yet possessed of a deadly edge that simply could not be quantified. "Six men on one? Disgusting."

Minoru smiled. He could sense the other man's _ki_, a strong, vibrant presence tempered by the hottest flames into unbreakable steel. He was also undoubtedly on Minoru's side. The man sounded like a clan warrior, and the insignia of the Goliath Scorpions was embroidered on one sleeve of his jacket.

"The odds seem more even now." Minoru commented. "Are you curs ready to run like the dogs you are?" Now three to one odds were perfectly fine by him. Minoru could tell that the assassins were not especially skilled. The Goliath Scorpions were renowned for "Five Scars Dancing", a peculiar form of blade technique said to rival any in the world, developed for their ritualistic "Dance of the Scars". This newcomer definitely looked like he could handle a sword.

"It's still three on one!" The leader yelled as they finally sprang forward.

Minoru dodged one cut, then twisted his own katana around to parry another blow. He slashed the blade horizontally from left to right, forcing his three attackers back lest they be eviscerated by the keen blade.

He caught a glimpse of the other man fending off the assassins quite handily, his katana and wakizashi a wall of flashing steel around him.

Minoru grinned. "I wager you, Goliath Scorpion, that I can defeat my three opponents before you do!" Having taken the full measure of his opponents, Minoru went on the attack, his katana flashing out.

"You are on!" The other warrior replied, then he started fighting forward as well in a frenzy of blows, seemingly reckless, but actually with incredible control over his blade.

Minoru sidestepped one blade, then stabbed forward, thrusting hard and into the open chest of one assassin, then relinquishing his blade to the surprise of another assassin who slashed at the area he would be if he had held onto his blade.

The Kurita scion kicked the surprised assassin's legs out from under him before removing his katana from the dead assassin, then parried a blow from the third assassin. As the third assassin pulled his sword back, Minoru took the chance to slice downwards, and the second assassin died as his throat was slit by Minoru's flawless cut, unable to roll away in time.

The remaining assassin died moments later.

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Descartin roared amidst the thunder of clashing steel, his voice shaking his opponents. He overpowered one assassin, battering aside the katana with his wakizashi, and then thrusting quickly with his katana. Descartin then reversed his grip on his katana, in time to pull it out while spinning quickly around to one side of his dead opponent and blocking the katana of a second assassin.

Sensing that his opponent was not well balanced, Winters stepped forward, pushing with his katana against his opponent's sword. As the assassin flailed his arms for a moment, Descartin sliced his belly open with his wakizashi.

The last assassin, the man who had spoken, stabbed forward, trying to catch Descartin. The clan warrior pirouetted, then executed an intricate series of steps around his opponent, his katana still in a reverse grip, and his wakizashi in a normal grip, spinning like a top around his last enemy, every turn slicing into the flesh of his foe.

He completed the circle, coming to a stop before the man. Bloody gashes could be seen all over the man's black costume, but more importantly, was the single gaping wound across his throat, Descartin's last cut of the "Dervish Steps", one of the movements in the "Five Scars Dancing" technique, which he had learnt with the Goliath Scorpions, and further improved upon by merging his knowledge of kendo Yoshino Ihara had taught him.

The man collapsed onto the ground, apparently quite dead.

The sound of clapping made Descartin look up at the man he had helped.

"It seems that I have won the wager." The other man smiled.

"Indeed." Descartin flicked away the blood on his swords before sheathing them into their scabbards. He faced the other man and bowed, used to the action after weeks with the courtesy-obsessed Kuritas. "I am Star Captain Descartin Winters of the Goliath Scorpions, a Seeker on a vision quest."

He looked expectantly at the other man, but he just smiled, and said simply, "I am a member of Clan Nova Cat."

Descartin frowned, "Your name, honoured warrior."

The man waved a hand dismissively, "What do names matter? Names are just words, sounds strung together, signifying nothing." He smiled at Descartin, "What does matter, is that you lost the wager."

"We did not set a price." Descartin said, sensing that another battle was impending. It felt different though, and he suspected the other man was testing him.

"I do not demand much." He took a careful look at Descartin's swords. "Just your two swords."

"No." The katana and wakizashi were gifted to him by Theodore Kurita, relics of an age even older than the clans, weapons which once belonged to his ancestors. Descartin had not held them long, but they already felt a part of his warrior's soul. Giving them up would be like cutting off his own arms.

"Why not?" The man asked, "They are just tools, swords easily replaced by any master blacksmith. Besides, they would serve as a handy reminder of this battle we have fought."

"These swords hold particular meaning for me, Nova Cat." Calling another warrior this way sounded weird to Descartin, since he was born a Nova Cat as well. "I would not give them up for all the worlds of the Inner Sphere."

The man nodded, "Well said. But then, I won the wager, and I get to set the ransom, unless…"

Descartin's ears perked up, "Unless?"

"We duel. If I win, I take your swords. If you win, then we consider the prior wager null and void." The man smiled. "This place is no good for a duel, not with these dead bodies on the floor. Follow me."

Curious, Descartin picked up his duffel bag where he had left it o the ground, and trailed the man to a bamboo forest in the park, the green and brown flecked stalks of bamboo forming vertical lines into the air.

The man gestured around him, "We fight using bamboo sticks." He reached out for a bamboo, and pulled it out of the ground with his left hand, while the right hand, the one with the katana, whipped off ends of the stick such that it was of a length comparable to a sword. He tossed it at Descartin, who caught it easily.

As he quickly made another bamboo stick for himself, the man asked, "Since I've decided the choice of weapons as the challenger, as the challenged, when and where do you wish to fight?"

Descartin carefully pulled his scabbards from his belt, and placed them on the ground beside a bench, along with his duffel bag. "Right here, right now."

"Bargained well and done." The man, having finished his own weapon, identical to Descartin's, stabbed his katana into the ground, and brought up the bamboo stick into a fighting stance.

Descartin raised his own bamboo, ready for battle. As the two men stared at each other in the eyes, the first glimmers of the morning sun started shining over the horizon.

"Dawn, an unusual time for a duel, but fitting." The other man remarked. "Ready?"

Descartin did not reply, but he nodded.

Then the other man stepped forward, and the duel was on, their bamboo sticks snapping against each other as they fought.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Khan Santin West yawned and stretched his huge frame as he stepped out of his quarters for his morning exercise before breakfast. Two members of his command star appeared next to him.

"Good morning." The highest ranking warrior of the Nova Cats suppressed another yawn. "The two of you here means something is up."

"My Khan," one of the two reported, "Early this morning out morning patrols found several black clad men dead near the park. We are just starting investigations. Some of them were missing their heads, as though cut by a sword."

_Black clad men? Swords? _They sounded like ninja assassins to Santin. _But who are they hunting?_ "Anything else?"__

"Neg, my Khan."

A thought struck Santin as he pondered the reported incident. _Minoru! _The elemental frowned and asked, "Where is the Oathmaster?"

The two warriors glanced at each other. "We do not know."

Santin West stared at them, "Then I suggest you find out now." The two gulped, then nodded before they ran off to fulfil his orders.

West shook his head. Minoru Kurita could take care of himself, and the familiar sensation of dread was missing, where it would always appear whenever the shit was about to hit the fan, as the Spheroids would say. Santin West, like most veteran warriors, had learnt to rely on his gut instincts.

He started jogging slowly, warming up his muscles as he made his way down the wide streets of New Barcella, flanked on both sides by tall gleaming office buildings, signs of the clan's newfound prosperity. He did not require any bodyguards. If a Khan of a clan could not travel unmolested and safely in the streets of his own city, then he was not fit to be Khan.

Pedestrians, mostly early morning lower caste members, greeted him as he jogged past, and he acknowledged them with a nod. He had started to use such jogs as a way to assess the condition of New Barcella, and make himself seem more accessible to his people. Indeed, some of them, particularly the merchants, would often approach him after his run, to raise some issues of concern. It was another way to strengthen the clan, and Santin was determined that his people thrived in the Inner Sphere.

He would often end his runs with a final lung bursting sprint down to the park near the genetic repository, and this morning was supposedly no different.

But this time, as he ran down, he found a huge crowd blocking his way, preventing from going all out. And they were apparently watching something very interesting. Some of them even cheered, mystifying Santin West further. _What could be so interesting?_

Thoughts of his exercise forgotten, and curious at the weird behaviour of the people at the park, Santin West used his superior mass and agility to bully his way past the press of people around… whatever they were looking at.

Then he broke through to see Minoru Kurita, the Oathmaster of the Clan, sparring with another warrior with bamboo sticks. The action was frantic yet graceful, fast yet powerful at the same time, both men clearly pushing themselves to their limits and beyond.

One particularly fast and skilled exchange made the crowd clap and cheer appreciatively, and Santin realised the place was taking on a party atmosphere. He wanted to scowl at the antics of the lower castes, treating the business of warriors as entertainment, but the notion suddenly disappeared when he finally recognised the warrior fighting with Minoru.

_Descartin Winters! What is he doing here? _The Khan of the Nova Cats pushed forward again, until he was in the front of the crowd surrounding the two duelists. It seemed as if there was a magical force emanating from the two combatants that forced the crowd from encroaching too close, but then again, the swift movement of their bamboo sticks was probably the reason. Nobody wanted a bamboo strike across the face.

The two warriors were already exhausted, sweat dripping profusely off their bodies, yet they fought on. Parry, strike, dodge. The yellowed leaves on the ground swirled with their quick footsteps and the faint breeze, adding to the elegance of the duel. Santin studied their movements carefully, picking out moves that he would practise when he had the opportunity. _A warrior never stops learning._

Closer to the action now, Santin West looked at his old comrade from the invasion of the Inner Sphere. Descartin was, like him, older, and no longer the callow officer who had fought during the invasion, unsure of his authority and uncomfortable with command. Even without speaking to Descartin, Santin could sense that the warrior had finally lived up to the promise expected of him, carrying himself with strength and vigor.

_Just too bad he has to be with the Goliath Scorpions_, Santin thought. _We could certainly use a warrior of his ability now._

Then the two warriors finally stopped, Descartin with his bamboo thrust against Minoru's own bamboo, which was held up in front of his nose. A perfect block, or so it seemed.

Then Descartin gave his bamboo a slight twist with his wrist, and Minoru's bamboo split apart right down the middle into two pieces, leaving him to face the end of Descartin's bamboo.

The crowd went wild, clapping loudly even as they recognised that it was their own clan Oathmaster who lost. Santin West stared at Minoru, wondering why the Oathmaster had a faint smile on his lips in defeat.

He started to walk forward towards the two men, a grin on his face as he prepared to greet one of his oldest friends still alive.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Descartin panted hard for breath, finally letting the bamboo down from its position, pointed at his opponent's throat. He did not understand why the man was smiling. "It seems that I get to keep my swords after all."

His opponent bowed to him, then said, "I am honoured."

"I see you have improved much, Descartin Winters!" A voice boomed, and Descartin turned to see a grinning Santin West approach them. "I am surprised, however, that you did not seek me out! And I thought we were friends!" Santin wagged a finger at him in mock disapproval.

Descartin could not help but grin back, "Neg, Khan West. I only just arrived here late last night."

Santin was puzzled, "The _Esquire_ from Avon?" He blinked, "You were on Avon?"

"Aff." Descartin shrugged. Apparently the media blackout and the efforts to keep him in the background had paid off very well, if even the Khan of the Nova Cats did not know that he was involved in the battles for Luthien and Avon. "I fought in the civil war for Theodore and Hohiro Kurita before they decided they could not accept my aid."

The Asian man smiled. "Then I am doubly honoured by your presence, Star Captain."

Descartin looked at him warily, "I still do not know who you are."

Santin barked a laugh, "Hah! This is one for the record books! You mean you truly do not know the identity of your opponent?"

Descartin shook his head.

Santin West's smile grew even wider, "This is Minoru Kurita, Oathmaster of the Nova Cats. And you, old friend, owe me a full explanation and a meal!"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They accompanied him to the genetic repository, after Descartin had explained his purpose in coming to Irece. Santin had already been informed by Jaime Wolf of the transfer of genetic material, even if Jaime had not told him of the exact identity of the bearer of the _giftakes_. Descartin was honoured that he was to be escorted by two such renowned warriors for the final stage of his task.

Descartin spent some time marvelling at the construction of the repository, a tall, imposing Neo-Gothic fortress that rose some three hundred meters above the ground, reaching into the sky. Black in colour, it reflected the rays of the morning sun like a mirror. The eleven Bloodhouse chapels, one for each exclusive bloodname possessed by the Nova Cats, surrounded the genetic repository.

Every clan had just such a series of structures, meant to hold their treasured genetic material, from which future generations of clan warriors would be produced. These were sacred areas, holy ground for the clans, in lieu of the traditional religions of humanity.

The Nova Cats had transferred all the contents of the original genetic repository from Strana Mechty to Irece, and build near-identical replicas of the original repository on their new homeworld in the Inner Sphere. Descartin knew many clans would regard this as an affront to their traditions, but he could hardly care less.

Hell, even his presence here, as a Goliath Scorpion serving as honour guard for the _giftake_ of fallen Nova Cat warriors serving with the Dragoons, was not exactly normal.

Together with Santin West and Minoru Kurita, Descartin Winters passed through the entrance of the genetic repository, entering a huge chamber made of granite and marble, black and white interspersed in curving patterns. Dim light shone from strategically placed lamps, lending the chamber a solemn, sacred air.

An old, robed scientist flanked by hulking elemental guards on both sides waited for him at the far end of the chamber. They carried long staves in their hands, and stood to attention as Descartin and their Khan approached.

The old scientist spoke, his voice reverberating through the chamber, "I am the Keeper of the Nova Cat kin, the blood of our warriors? Who intrudes upon this most holy of grounds?"

Descartin replied, his voice strong yet respectful, "I, Descartin Winters of the Goliath Scorpions, stand as honour guard for the honoured dead."

"Has a blooded warrior passed into nothingness?"

"Neg. Their lives are gone, but their legacy lives on." He reached into his duffel bag and pulled out the bulk container containing the _giftakes_ of the fallen Dragoon _abtakha_, who were all once Bloodnamed warriors of Clan Nova Cat. "I bring you those lost from the clan with honour, serving their new destinies with courage and pride. They died in glorious battle."

An elemental stepped forward to take the container, and handed it to the scientist. The scientist held a small scanner up against an access panel in the side of the container. A green light came on, and the scientist nodded, indicating to Descartin that all was in order. "I stand here before all assembled here to say that many new generations of warriors will carry these warriors in their blood. Their substance will live on after we are all gone."

"_Seyla_," everybody present said in sombre tones.

"Far Traveller, you have fulfilled your duty. Know that these warriors have returned home. You have braved the darkness of the stars and the fires of war to intern them, as our ways demand. You serve the clans with honour." The scientist bowed to him.

_Far Traveller? _Descartin wondered at the title as he returned the bow, then the scientist continued speaking, "Biccon Winters requests your presence in the Winters Bloodhouse chapel. Seek her out, Far Traveller."

The clan warrior blinked for several seconds and stood in place for several seconds. _Biccon Wnters? What does she want with me?_

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Several low level orderlies were waiting for them when they entered the chapel, showing them to a small room where Biccon Winters, the Bloodhouse Leader, awaited them.

Descartin rose his eyebrows in surprise when he saw that Secorra was present as well, seated on a bench on one side of the room. Biccon Winters, her face lined and wrinkled from old age, sat behind a table. Her eyes were wise, shrewd, missing nothing as Descartin trooped in behind Santin West and Minoru, who had insisted on coming along.

"My Khan, Oathmaster," the former Oathmaster rose from her seat to greet her superiors, "Welcome to the Winters Bloodhouse chapel."

She turned to Descartin, "And you, Far Traveller, have finally returned to us."

"I am honoured by your request." Descartin bowed politely.

Biccon smiled, "Let us, for the moment at least, forget about rank and convention, and speak plainly, as fellow warriors." She turned to the Khan and the Oathmaster, "If it is acceptable to you?"

"Aff," both men replied.

"Good," Biccon Winters, for all her crustiness and lack of rank after she had reigned from the position of Oathmaster, was still highly regarded within the Nova Cats. "Descartin, do you know why I called you here?"

"Neg."

"I am sorry if I am being too obtuse, but one tends to get that way in their old age." She smiled self-deprecatingly, "You are an interesting character within the clans, Descartin. I have known this the moment I laid eyes on you so many years ago on Barcella, almost strangling Secorra to death."

Descartin and Secorra both grimaced at the memory, but she continued, "You have led an incredible life. More than any warrior of the clans in the past. More than five clans, countless battles in the homeworlds, the Inner Sphere, and even the Periphery. Have you ever wondered where this was all going to lead? What your destiny was?"

"Does it matter?" Descartin asked back, "I did what I was suppose to do, what anyone would have done."

She shook her head, as though knowing something he did not, "The Fates weave our destinies into the greater fabric of creation, and our visions afford us only the smallest glimpses of their grand design. But even I can see that everything you have been through, all you have experienced, was preparation for something greater."

Descartin scoffed, "Something greater? All my life I am just another warrior. Yes, I have attained my bloodname, but other than that I have done nothing of worth, accomplished nothing. I am still a lowly Star Captain, and most would consider me _solahma_ already."

She quirked an eyebrow at him, "Really? Rescuing Isis Marik and Kitsune Kurita from Luthien would rank highly on anybody's list. Discovering an ancient Star League base in the Periphery, that is also worthy of mention. Fighting in the Great Refusal as a Star Adder, defeating the Free Worlds League military, yet another credit in your codex."

Descartin was shocked that she knew about the business in the Kado-Guchi Valley, "How did you know?"

Biccon smiled, "I have my ways, my visions, and I was able to read between the lines of the reports Hohiro Kurita sent me." She smirked, "More importantly, Secorra told me what happened. I can also understand now why I was drawn to save him from your fight so many years ago. If Secorra had died then, you would have died on Luthien, and much would have changed."

Minoru cut in at this point, "You were part of the force that rescued my nephew. I am further in your debt, in addition to your saving my life this morning." He bowed slowly to Descartin in respect.

Santin frowned, "What?"

While Minoru explained to Santin the assassins in the morning, Biccon continued speaking, "See? Many of your actions have or will have enormous repercussions for the rest of humanity. Imagine if Isis Marik and young Kitsune were lost. Imagine if the Star Adders had lost their assigned battle. Imagine if the Oathmaster had been killed." She placed several stones on the table. "All of us are like stones. They create ripples, but some, like you, create far greater ripples than others."

Descartin shook his head, not able to accept her words. "I just did my duty." _I was just a soldier, a warrior. Nothing more. Stop trying to make me out to be something bigger, because I am not._

"Keep telling yourself that. It will change nothing." Biccon smiled. "I think you should take a trip on Irece."

"House Master?" Descartin asked.

She took out a piece of paper, and held it out to him. It was an address, the location of a sibko training facility on the planet. "Go here, Far Traveller. You will understand more of your destiny speaking to Varro Drummond."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This has got to be one of the fastest chapters I've ever written! Just two days after finishing the chapter of another fic(go look it up…. Elsewhere!), and this gets blasted out! Woohoo!

Now for the reviews, which are rather less this time round, but understandable since I seem to be cranking out chapters faster than you guys can read. Bwahahahaha!!!

**Tangmeister**: Frank is indeed a bit of a whiner, but then, he's been thrown into circumstances that he's absolutely unprepared for! Besides, it adds to his character. Later on, he'll lose the whininess and stay in kickass mode **_all the time_**.

**Sphinx**: Wish you the best of luck in finding a job!

**UnarmedBystander**: Details, schmetails. Minor characters, I don't want to waste time on 'em. ;) Oh, and I don't play MM, because my net connection's too slow at times. I do use the bots to test out new designs, but that's about it.

**Frankenstein Jr**: Yah, action all the time gets stale too!

**Roastpuff**: Poor clanner might get lucky. ;)

**eddy_s**: Oh yes, the Canopians are very nice folk, but if you're a guy, would you like being discriminated against? :P

**Strikepenguin5**: Writing's not easy, I know. Even this fic was the result of more than 3 years of daydreaming!

Since the last few chapters were missing the usual design-of-the-chapter, here's one 'gem' of a mech. Heh.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Type/Model:    Squisher SQU-1SH

Tech:          Inner Sphere / 3070

Config:        Biped BattleMech

Rules:         Level 2, Standard design

Mass:          20 tons

Chassis:       SGDUE4 Standard

Power Plant:   60 Omni Fusion

Walking Speed: 32.4 km/h

Maximum Speed: 54.0 km/h

Jump Jets:     3 Rawlings 20 Standard Jump Jets

Jump Capacity: 90 meters

Armor Type:    1/Star Slab Standard

Armament:      

  2 Krupp  Model 3 Machine Guns

  1 Diverse Optics Type 10 Small Laser

  1 Diverse Optics Type 2 Medium Laser

  1 Guided Technologies SRM 2

  1 Krupp Multi Flamer

  2 Krupp PBI Anti-Personnel Pods

Manufacturer:  Krupp Armaments Works

  Location:    Terra

Communications System:  Talky4

Targeting & Tracking System:  Ant Tracker

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

==Overview:==

For unknown reasons, the Word of Blake suddenly found Terra slowly becoming a hotbed of resistance as members of the 6 billion strong populace started carrying out attacks on Word of Blake installations.

While guerilla activity had largely ceased sometime in 3062 due to insufficient Comstar support and dwindling Comstar resistance numbers, they started to peak again after the end of the Fed Com Civil War. While part of that was attributed to pirate point supply runs by Comstar(a fabrication by Wobblie intel analysts to save their own skins) into the Terran system, despite the best efforts of the Word of Blake SDS operators, ROM analysts have deduced that the level of supply does not account for the massive growth in incidents from the end of 3067 to 3068.

Unable to uncover the source for their troubles, the Word of Blake commissioned a new mech to deal with the problem. Meant to be a cheap garrison mech to deal with insurgents and rioters, it was given the whimsical name of Squisher, the common sound emitted by stepped-on infantry. The native Terrans did not like that at all.

==Capabilities:==

Powered by a lightweight Omni engine, widely available on Terra, the Squisher has just enough speed to outrun Urbanmechs. This speed was judged sufficient for the streets of Terra, because a higher speed will tempt pilots to go faster, and the resulting footprints left on the ground are expensive to repair.

Its armament was completely designed for close infantry combat and riot duty, and can crush most unprotected personnel with a mix of fire, SRMs, and machine guns.

In the event of encounters with anti-mech infantry, the Squisher has no problems either, its anti-personnel pods able to swat away all but the most suicidal of attacks.

In a concession to civilian concerns, Krupp made sure that killing infantry was not all that the Squisher could do. Assisting in civil defence duties was the secondary mission of the Squisher, and here Krupp went out of its way to have dual roles for each and every system.

The hands on the Squisher were fully articulated, and could handle objects as delicate as a human being, even with lesser pilots at the controls. The SRM launchers could be fitted with smoke, tear gas, or anti-fire foam missiles. The flamer could be quickly modified to shoot water, or also other liquid substances for a variety of applications like firefighting.

The machine guns could use various special ammunition, like heavy rubber bullets for riot control, miniscule tear gas dispensing rounds, or the newly developed incendiary machine gun rounds to put the fear of Blake into rioters.

Even the lasers had in-cockpit dial settings that allowed them to vary their output. By turning down the output, the Squisher can turn the lasers into 'flash' beams that will not kill, but rather produce an effect akin to that standing under a very hot sun. There is also a setting for inducing temporary blindness.

Jump jets are installed to improve its mobility, as well as for the psychological effect on enemies of seeing a multiton battlemech rise up into the air on flaming jets, then coming down with bone jarring force to shake up opposing infantry and rioters. Its other use was to rescue civilians trapped on higher levels of burning buildings.

Due to the cost cutting measures of the Word of Blake, the Squisher did not mount any advanced construction technology, which enabled the Word of Blake to produce and deploy this mech at cutthroat prices.

==Notable 'Mechs & MechWarriors:==

**_Classified_**

==Deployment==

**_Classified_**

--------------------------------------------------------

Type/Model:    Squisher SQU-1SH

Mass:          20 tons

Equipment:                                 Crits    Mass

Int. Struct.:  33 pts Standard               0      2.00

Engine:        60 Fusion                     6      1.50

   Walking MP:   3

   Running MP:   5

   Jumping MP:   3

Heat Sinks:     10 Single                    8       .00

 (Heat Sink Loc: 3 LT, 5 RT)

Gyro:                                        4      1.00

Cockpit, Life Supt., Sensors:                5      3.00

Actuators: L: Sh+UA+LA+H    R: Sh+UA+LA+H   16       .00

Armor Factor:   64 pts Standard              0      4.00

                          Internal    Armor

                          Structure   Value

   Head:                      3          9      

   Center Torso:              6          8      

   Center Torso (Rear):                  3      

   L/R Side Torso:            5        8/8      

   L/R Side Torso (Rear):              2/2      

   L/R Arm:                   3        5/5      

   L/R Leg:                   4        7/7      

Weapons and Equipment    Loc  Heat  Ammo   Crits    Mass

--------------------------------------------------------

1 Machine Gun            RA      0  100      2      1.00

  (Ammo Locations: 1 RT)

1 Machine Gun            LA      0           1       .50

1 Small Laser            LT      1           1       .50

1 Medium Laser           LT      3           1      1.00

1 SRM 2                  CT      2   50      2      2.00

  (Ammo Locations: 1 RT)

1 Flamer                 HD      3           1      1.00

1 Anti-Personnel Pod     LL      0           1       .50

1 Anti-Personnel Pod     RL      0           1       .50

3 Standard Jump Jets:                        3      1.50

 (Jump Jet Loc: 1 LT, 1 RT, 1 CT)

--------------------------------------------------------

TOTALS:                          9          52     20.00

Crits & Tons Left:                          26       .00

Calculated Factors:

Total Cost:        1,111,740 C-Bills

Battle Value:      311

Cost per BV:       3,574.73

Weapon Value:      100 / 100 (Ratio = .32 / .32)

Damage Factors:    SRDmg = 9;  MRDmg = 1;  LRDmg = 0

BattleForce2:      MP: 3J,  Armor/Structure: 2/2

                   Damage PB/M/L: 2/1/-,  Overheat: 0

                   Class: ML;  Point Value: 3

Next chapter brings us back to Ian, and the business with the Smoke Jaguars. It's more non-mech action! And after that, we scoop back to Terra as Frank 'enjoys' his stay in the jungle!


	19. Calderon

_The Smoke Jaguars had about three galaxies of survivors scattered throughout known space. After the fall of Lincoln Osis, Star Colonel Greg Kotare assumed command of the warships _Osis' Pride_ and _Streaking Mist_, as well as a reinforced cluster of troops._

_For more than seven years, they wandered the Periphery, rounding up Jaguar warriors and looking for a suitable homeworld, slowly expanding to a full galaxy of three under-strength clusters with mixed levels of technology, with the ultimate goal of re-establishing the clan when they had built up enough strength to seize a world without fear of counterattack from the Inner Sphere. Sibkos became a valuable resource, and even the freebirth offspring of Jaguar warriors born after the destruction of the clan were accepted into their training programs._

_Greg Kotare eventually promoted himself to Galaxy Commander after defeating all challengers, but refrained from claiming the Khanship as there was no quorum available. However, they could not see any opportunity at all in their years of searching. Worlds which were poorly defended were often severely lacking in heavy industry, and had trouble feeding themselves. Similarly, good worlds with advanced technology, agriculture and industry were often too heavily defended._

_By 3067, logistics was becoming a severe problem. They were running out of food, parts for their machines, and fuel for their ships. Without a ready resource base from which they could draw on for more supplies, the Jaguars were pushed to the brink of extinction. Raiding the poor worlds of the Inner Sphere Outer Rim and the Periphery barely netted them enough to get by._

_In hindsight, Galaxy Commander Kotare grudgingly admitted that Ian Calderon did them a huge favour in 3068._

-_The Smoke Jaguar and the Raging Bull, _Jenna Doe

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Landsmark__,_

_Taurian Concordat, Periphery,_

_23rd October 3068_

"Uff!" Ian Calderon grunted as he blocked a heavy punch from Daniela Mattlov with his forearm. He shuffled his feet, then dropped for a leg sweep which managed to dump her on the practice mat.

"Yield!" She yelled moments before he swooped down for a chop to her neck.

"Not bad for an old man, eh?" Ian grinned tiredly as he pulled her up to her feet.

"Do not get cocky," Daniela glared at him, "I was throwing you around a while ago."

Ian's grin grew wider. He loved it when she got angry. He replied, "Sure, sure. But it's not how you start a fight. It's how you finish it."

"But in a real fight, who gets in the first shot wins. And I'm not saying this as a Ice Hellion." Jenna Doe said with a straight face as she handed towels to the two, though Ian thought he spotted a slight upwards turn of her mouth. "And Galaxy Commander Greg Kotare will likely come at you from the start with all the fury of the Jaguar."

Ian wiped sweat off his face. _Damn, but it's hot as hell nowadays around here._ "Which is why I'm preparing for all possible situations."

"That's right." Jenna replied. "Better safe than sorry, commander."

Benny Greaves cracked from his usual position near the door, "Besides, there's always the chance they might cheat."

Daniela spun on the bodyguard, her eyes flashing. "They are clan. They will not cheat."

Benny held up his hands to ward off her anger, "Woah! Easy, ma'am!"

Jenna shook her head, "They may be clan, but do they still consider themselves to be clan after so long?" She was about to say more when Milton Hawkings entered the gym.

Ian watched with interest as Milton moved towards Jenna somewhat hesitantly, as though debating with himself if he could get away with some show of affection. Milton had confessed over several late night poker and beer sessions that he felt distanced from Jenna ever since she had recovered her memories. Ian and the other players had just nodded their heads sagely and proceeded to ruthlessly dig more winnings out of the zillionaire.

Subaltern Doe had been a completely different person since she had awakened in the hospital with a full set of memories. She was more driven, more focused. She had slid back in command of the remaining Red Chasseurs, and also kept the Jaguar bondsmen in line, essentially wearing two hats at once. It had been difficult at first for the Taurians, but they had managed to adapt after she had reaffirmed her loyalty to the Concordat, in front of her troops _and_ the Jaguars.

The remaining pirates who had survived the battle were all in prison. Traditional procedure for them would be to execute them by firing squad, or hanging to save on bullets. Ian had bucked tradition in this case, even if it meant feeding them, clothing them, and giving them some shelter. He needed them as witnesses, because the information they had dug up so far showed without a doubt that the Syphon Blades were out to kill him, sponsored by somebody else. The _Shen__ Se Tian _were yet another matter.

He was so going to get back at Brenda Calderon for her stunt. If he survived the Jaguars, that is. Which was no certain matter.

"How are things coming along?" Ian asked Hawkings, who summoned up some courage and stood next to Jenna, their hands almost touching. Ian grinned inwardly.

"The techs have managed to modify the dropships like you wanted, and armed it with 9 of the nukes on the adapted missile turrets." Ian saw both Daniela and Jenna stiffen at the mention of nukes, Jenna to a much lesser extent. Jenna's Taurian training and indoctrination worked against her clan bred instincts, while Daniela had no such countervailing attitude.

He asked softly, casually, as though talking about the weather, "The other nukes?"

"The wing of fighters from the Red Chasseurs have them, and they're ready to move out at a moment's notice on the _Union_." While Hawkings was not a member of any military unit, Ian had discovered that the guy was a logistical and organizational genius, with an eye for placing the best people in roles that they could excel in. Probably the reason why he was so rich. So Hawkings had taken responsibility for making sure the material portions of their plan was secure.

The rest of the gang was busy with other stuff. Xie Xun, their Capellan attaché, spent most of his time grilling the Jaguar bondsmen for information, as well as fighting them in various simulator sessions, all the better to gain their respect, which he did pretty quickly. Xie was a superior mech pilot, after all, though Ian had a sneaking suspicion the whole stinking mess was going to end up as a detailed report to the last nut and bolt on Sun-Tzu Liao's desk when they got back to a working HPG. _If_ they got back.

The _Osis__' Pride_ was supposed to arrive on the 2nd of October, just enough time for them to break out two nukes and ready them for deployment. When it didn't turn up, which wasn't exactly unexpected because of the problems that everybody associated with interstellar travel, Ian had decided to stack the odds even more heavily in their favour. Hence the extra nukes, the modified _Union_ to transport and support the fighters on the 2nd moon, and the dropship-launched nuclear warheads.

"So the blackmail part of the plan is set." Ian breathed in deeply, then continued, "Problem is whether we can convince Kotare to agree to a winner-takes-all Trial of Possession. And that's not even considering if I can beat him or a proxy in anything yet!"

Everybody nodded in agreement.

The next morning, the spaceport personnel reported a massive jump signature, matching that of a partly loaded _Potemkin_ class warship, at a pirate point about 2 days out. Ian quickly scrambled his people into position, waiting until the warship was close enough for him to spring their entrapment.

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"Has there been any word from our people on the planet?" Galaxy Commander Greg Kotare asked from his position near the bridge holotank, staring at a representation of Landsmark, its three moons, and the numerous orbital flotsam in its immediate space, all tagged by small wordings to denote their identities and various threat levels.

"Neg, Galaxy Commander." A bridge tech reported, and Greg cursed under his breath. He resisted the urge to walk back and forth in front of the holotank to bleed off his tension. Having the bridge on the gravdeck afforded him that luxury.

The _Osis__' Pride_ had jumped in a few days ago, at a pirate point that got them to Landsmark in just 2 days at 1G thrust. Throughout the entire time, there had been no out of the ordinary transmissions from the planet itself. And that in itself was troubling to the seasoned veteran.

There was supposed to be at least a Binary of Jaguars for pickup plus whatever food and supplies they had managed to amass, and the messages beamed towards the world at secure frequencies should have been received quite a while ago, long enough for them to respond.

Kotare had heard all the arguments against raiding a Concordat world, all of which played out in his ear again. The dangers of facing a faction that had a history of using nuclear devices. Facing fanatical defenders on the ground. Those concerns, however, were dismissed out of hand. Firstly, they were not out to conquer the world, just a fast smash and grab, leaving the Taurians with little time to prepare any of their nuclear weapons. Next, the fact that they were going to just raid the place meant that they would have little to fear from infantry challenging their mechs, unlike long term occupation where a hostile populace could make things very unpleasant in their barracks, as Greg had seen first hand in the Draconis Combine.

Still, every instinct in the bones in his body was telling him to jump out. That something was very wrong. Kotare gritted his teeth against the sensation. It was an irrational hope to stay in orbit and wait for a response, but he also knew that they could not tarry for long. If there was no more response in the next 24 hours, they would be heading out for the nearest jump point ASAP.

"Galaxy Commander!" A tech suddenly exclaimed, "We have detected fighters accelerating from somewhere around the 2nd moon!"

Another tech chimed out, "Two dropships lifting off from the planetary surface! IDed as one _Leopard_, one _Overlord_!"

The slight pressure in his belly finally exploded, and Greg hissed to himself, "It's a _stravag_ trap."

There had been no indication at all of Landsmark, a sleepy agricultural world, ever having that much hardware. Somebody knew they were on the way, and had prepared the ground. It also meant that somehow, somebody had given them away. A Smoke Jaguar had betrayed them. The prior arrangement with Star Commander Hadden had only indicated that the pirate band he was in, the Syphon Blades, would be present, not the horde of enemy blips in the holotank.

Greg wanted to deny it, but after all he had seen, heard, and experienced, nothing really surprised him anymore. After all, Trent had caused their ultimate downfall. Why not another?

"Tell the CAP to intercept!" Kotare ordered, although he knew his screening fighters were already moving on their own initiative, which is only to be expected. Due to the suddenness of the engagement, his fighters were in a less than optimal position to intercept. But that did not mean they would not try their best. He continued to snap orders, "Launch the standby fighters! Scramble all available units! I want the _Dark Huntress_ out there!" The _Dark Huntress_ was their _Noruff_ class dropship, a mean assault weapon, and the most manoeuvrable and dangerous dropship combatant in the galaxy. He did not like to deploy it, since it meant further fuel expenditure he could hardly afford, but he had no choice.

They had only about two stars of omnifighters, another star of second line clan fighters, and then two stars of Star League era fighters. The combat air patrol was only half a star of the last group due to fuel problems, barely a match for the 8 Taurian fighters streaking in along with an _Union_ class dropship that was probably their launching base on the moon. Greg did not know how they had managed to modify the spheroid class dropship to launch the wing of fighters, but it was nevertheless a threat.

Greg looked at the holotank. 8 fighters and 3 dropships would hardly constitute a threat to a _Potemkin_ class dropship with the strong fighter and dropship screen he was deploying, unless…

_Nuclear weapons! _His blood ran cold as a tech called out, "Galaxy Commander, we are being hailed by the _Leopard_ class dropship!"

"Put him on." Greg tried to stand as straight as he could in front of the holotank, knowing that a small camera in front of him would display his image to his counterpart.

Meanwhile, the enemy _Leopard_ was nearing the range of the warship's naval scale particle cannons.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ian resisted the urge to wipe the sweat off his brow as he stood before the camera in the small bridge of the _Calypso_. He took in a deep breath, and let it out in a whoosh, trying to stay calm.

"Getting cold feet, Commander?" Daniela asked with one quizzed brow as she stared at him. Strangely enough, looking at her enabled him to calm down. Somewhat.

He replied matter-of-factly, "We're staring more than ten naval PPCs in the face, any of which could blow us out of space. Anybody would get nervous."

"Not me." She stared at him as though daring him to dispute her statement.

Ian sighed and conceded, "Fine, anybody except you, oh brave trueborn warrior of the Mattlovs."

She smirked at him, "That is better."

"Coming on, sir!" Jenna grinned as she watched their short conversation, then quickly suppressed it as a male officer appeared on the holoscreen.

The Jaguar officer had short cropped black hair, a commanding presence and scars on his face that could only be earned through years of hell. His eyes were intense, and Ian recognised a foe to be respected, an enemy obviously intelligent and determined enough to hold the remnants of a dead clan together for so long in the cold, dark abyss.

"I am Galaxy Commander Greg Kotare of the Smoke Jaguars, fiercest of Kerensky's children. Tremble in fear at our approach, and fear the claws of our warriors." Kotare narrowed his eyes after the ritualistic greeting. "Who dares oppose our passage?"

Ian composed himself, looking every inch the war-hardened mercenary officer who had fought dozens of campaigns on the crazed killing fields of the Chaos March. He looked back at Kotare, and said, "I am Ian Calderon, commanding officer," he had refused any actual rank, "of the forces defending Landsmark of the Taurian Concordat."

"Move your forces aside, or I will crush them."

Ian steeled himself for his reply. "I don't think so, Galaxy Commander." The other man stiffened a bit at his contraction, a calculated move to elicit just such a reaction. "You see, we have nuclear missiles aimed at your warship right now. Trust me, they're within range. And we have a lot more decoys in line too."

"Barbarians." The word was spat out of Kotare's mouth.

"Barbarians who would destroy the last hope of your clan." Ian said almost gently. "You have no choice, Galaxy Commander."

"And let my people be commanded by freebirth scum like you? I would rather all of us die right here and now." Kotare said with barely suppressed emotion. Ian knew how hard the other officer was taking all this. For all he had worked for so long to be reduced to nothing on the whim of another.

Which was why Jenna had, with her alter ego Leloni Furey's help, thought of a way out for him.

"Freebirth scum?" Ian smiled slightly, "That has yet to be proven, Galaxy Commander Kotare. What if I call you out?"

Kotare narrowed his eyes. "Speak plainly."

"Fine. A Trial of Possession for your command." Ian maintained the slight smile of challenge. "You and me in a duel. Mano-a-mano. Winner takes all. You win, you leave with the Smoke Jaguars we have captured here and whatever you want from Landsmark. I win, everything you have is mine."

"If I refuse?"

"Then we blow you apart."

"That does not leave me with much choice, does it?"

Ian tilted his head slightly to one side, "I suppose not."

Kotare nodded, "What sort of combat do you have in mind?"

Ian took out a coin, and showed both faces to Kotare. "You have a coin like this?"

The clan warrior took out a coin from a pocket. "Why?"

"Heads, we go hand to hand. Tails, we use mechs. That fair enough?"

"Aff." Kotare flipped the coin into the air, then allowed it to drop to the ground. The camera seemed to follow the coin as it rolled around lazily in small circles on the floor before coming to a stop, heads showing.

Ian said, "I'll see you on your warship. We're docking with you, and we'll be fighting on your ship's grav deck. No point putting this off."

Kotare reached out for a button, "Bargained well and done."

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Daniela Mattlov tried to suppress the clenching sensation in her stomach when Ian walked out of the huge airlock connecting their dropship to the _Potemkin_ class warship, into a corridor lined with floating Jaguar warriors in micro-G, all with scowls on their faces. It was not exactly fear, not as she knew it, but rather a… concern. For Ian.

She floated beside Ian Calderon, along with Jenna on the other side and Benny bringing up the rear as they made their way through the warship, led by an elemental. More than one Jaguar started at the sight of Jenna, as though they had seen her before. No surprise, really. As a Furey and bloodnamed warrior, a ristar, Jenna, or more accurately Leloni, would be relatively well known in the clan, even years after her disappearance.

They were ready for any deception. If the _Calypso_ came under attack, they would trigger their onboard nukes. Docked to the _Osis__' Pride_, both ships would be mutually annihilated. A constant transmission sent every five minutes from Benny would keep the _Calypso_ from blowing the place apart, until the Trial was decided.

Ian had decided to play fair after all, abiding by the terms he had set. Benny and the others had argued otherwise, but Ian had said, "It is a matter of honour."

And for that, Daniela was relieved, and more than a little proud of her commander.

They were shown to the gravdeck gym, where a whole crowd of warriors were gathered. On the matted floor was a drawn Circle of Equals about 15 meters in diameter, marked out with permanent red ink, obviously used often enough to settle disputes between warriors. Kotare waited within the circle, wearing a sleeveless shirt and exercise pants, plus bare feet on the mat. It was to be pure hand to hand.

Ian stepped up, seemingly oblivious to the angry, sullen stares of the gathered Jaguar warriors. He took off his own jacket, revealing a similar outfit to Kotare's.

"No footwear." Somebody called out, as if to remind him. Ian shrugged, and took off his boots and socks. Daniela noted with some amusement that as he threw the boots and socks somewhat casually to one side, the Jaguar warriors magically drifted away. _I did tell him to maintain personal hygiene… He has not changed his socks for the past two days._

Ian stepped over the red line and into the Circle of Equals.

From the murmurs around her, Daniela could hear that many of the Jaguar warriors were less than confident of their commander's victory, surprising in light of the arrogance that the clan had always possessed until its Annihilation. It seemed that the events of the past few years had sapped their confidence, leaving a wary caution in its place. It was discomfiting, to say the least, to have Smoke Jaguars not behaving like Smoke Jaguars.

"Not sure if he can win…"

"This warrior looks like no easy foe…"

"Was that Leloni Furey? What is she doing here with those Taurians?"

"Stinking freebirths…"

The two combatants stared at each other for several long seconds, before settling into almost identical combat postures. Kotare snarled, "Ready?"

Ian replied, "Let's go."

They stepped forward simultaneously, their fists and legs going in with controlled violence. From their first exchange, Daniela could see that both men were equally matched in almost every respect. Ian was perhaps a bit faster than the older Galaxy Commander, and Kotare was perhaps just a shade stronger.

They backed off after several seconds, without a telling blow on either side. Kotare had landed a hard punch to the head, while Ian had kneed him hard in the gut. But neither man seemed too distressed.

They went in again, this time keeping their distance from each other, jabbing and using their legs to kick at each other cautiously. There would be no savage rush into close range, no hasty blows. Everything was calculated within their heads in a split second, weighing the odds, the benefits and risks of a move, and adjusted accordingly. Kotare was fighting more like a Wolf than a Smoke Jaguar, but Daniela thought she could understand why. He could not afford to lose.

Kotare finally lashed out with a straight kick, with enough force behind it to knock Ian to the ground, or several steps backward to near the edge of the circle. Ian allowed himself to fall to the ground rather than get closer to the edge.

The Smoke Jaguar leapt in the air almost immediately, with one foot stretched down and ready to smash Ian into the ground. Daniela found herself holding her breath as Ian laid there for a moment, before he twisted away in time, rolling quickly to a stand and swinging his feet. The kick might have connected if Kotare had not shifted his own legs to parry the blow in midair, then landing somewhat awkwardly.

Ian ran in, one arm outstretched for a clothesline. The arm caught Kotare, but the Jaguar hit back at the same time with a blow to his gut. Kotare flopped to the ground, and whipped his legs out at the same time, which Ian adroitly avoided by stepping backwards. The two men stared at each other, and then to the surprise of everybody present, both of them smiled, then grinned. It was the grin of two predators savouring the fight.

Ian raised one hand, and beckoned, "Come on!"

Throwing caution to the wind, Kotare charged forward. They did not hold back now, hitting with enough force to make the observers wince. Ian fell back slightly, blood dripping from his mouth as Kotare swung in again. He caught the arm with his own hands and applied pressure. Kotare stepped in and threw an elbow strike into Ian's ribs, somehow moving past the pain in his trapped arm. Ian released Kotare's arm and moved away.

Kotare roared, and spun around, his leg coming up and around in a roundhouse kick. Daniela resisted the urge to look away as Ian spat out more blood. As he spun round from the force of the blow, Ian returned the favour to a surprised Kotare, his own leg smacking the Smoke Jaguar across the face, also drawing blood. Both men stumbled away from each other slightly, then Ian lowered his head and charged.

Kotare gasped as the other man bulldozed into his midsection, then he slammed both elbows on top of Ian's head. He spun the man around, then managed to pull Ian off. Ian came to a stop in a half kneel near the edge of the circle, and Daniela thought she knew him well enough now to know he had some trick in mind from the devilish fire in his eyes, though it was clear he had taken slightly more punishment as a result of those elbows Kotare was throwing about. His face was beginning to swell from prior blows.

Greg Kotare stepped forward with a snap punch, and Ian actually moved into the blow this time, letting it break his nose in a splatter of blood. A surprised Kotare was caught off guard by the apparent ease and effectiveness of his attack.

Surprised enough that Ian was able to grab one of his hands and then jump up in a quick move for his legs to grab the trapped arm as well in a version of the arm bar technique. Ian fell backwards, and Kotare found himself unavoidably heading for the outside of the circle. The mercenary fell onto the ground, but the imparted momentum was such that Kotare could not stop moving towards the edge.

The two men tumbled down and out, but it was clear to everybody watching that Kotare had left the edge of the circle first with his head leading the way, then landing with his other arm onto the matted floor of the gym, looking none the worse for wear, other than the bruises on his face.

"Owwww…" Ian laid on the floor across the circle markings, groaning and clutching his broken nose with both hands, blood streaking out from between the fingers.

The Trial was over. Ian Calderon had won, although he did not look the part of a victorious winner at all. Daniela let out a breath she did not know she was holding as she ran over to help Ian. And shout in his ears for pulling such a stupid stunt.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You idiot!" Ian winced as Daniela Mattlov screamed into his ear in the medical bay of the _Osis__' Pride_. A cast was holding his nose in place, and it was hard to breathe past the pain. And worse of all, he had to endure Daniela's long tirades. Plugging his ears with his fingers didn't help.

He held up a hand to ward off her next comment, "Hey, cut me a bit of slack, willya? I won, didn't I?"

"I have seen better fighting in my sibko!" She glared at him.

"Well, I won, and that's all that matters. You should have seen the other guy." Ian quipped, trying to put an optimistic spin on his own condition.

"What other guy?" A defiant Greg Kotare asked as he floated into the room with a few other Smoke Jaguar officers, all wearing hastily improvised bondcords around their wrists. Ian noticed that Greg Kotare looked fine except for some bruising around the face.

"Yeah, what other guy?" Benny grinned impishly as he snapped a mirror in front of Ian.

Ian looked at his own banged up and bandaged face in the mirror, then at Kotare, and conceded. "Okay, fine, I got beat up worse. Big deal!" He held up a finger, "I won!"

"So what would you have us do now, Commander Ian?" Kotare asked, and Ian picked up on the lack of his own surname being mentioned. _No surprise there. Oh well._

"Give me a summary of your status. How much fuel you have, your overall strength, this sort of thing."

Kotare walked over with a datapad, handing it to Ian. The mercenary took one look at it, then paled. _This can't be right!_

Ian looked up at the sullen Smoke Jaguar officer. "Let me get these facts straight first. Is it true that you have only," he took a peek at the datapad again, "a week and half of rations left?"

"Aff." Kotare lowered his head.

"And you have more than 300 children of various ages onboard as your sibkos?"

"Aff."

"My god…" Ian shook his head, tossed the datapad to Benny, then got up gingerly from his chair, floating into the space before Kotare. "Landsmark was a desperation stop, _quiaff_?" The use of the clan word seemed to startle Kotare, and he nodded.

Ian stared at the Smoke Jaguar officer, then turned to face Jenna, who was as pale as he was from the revelation. "Subaltern Doe, I want you to contact Landsmark and tell them I won't be returning to the planetary surface. Next, leave a company and the _Union_ behind on Landsmark. Everything else comes with us, plus whatever food you can scrounge up on Landsmark. And I want the silence on the Osis Pide maintained. Nobody, not even Brenda Calderon, gets whiff of this, you hear?"

"Yessir." Jenna was slightly startled by his orders, though she would apparently carry them out still, or at least he hoped so. She started for the exit.

"Oh, one more thing," Ian called after her, "I want the _Calypso_ attached to the _Pride_ as insurance. The nukes are to remain armed at all times until I decide otherwise." Jenna nodded again, and left.

"Sir!" Kotare shouted in protest, "You won the Trial of Possession legitimately. We are honour bound to abide by the result of the Trial."

"Uh uh," Ian wagged a finger, "I might have won, but I still don't trust you. Yet. However," he placed emphasis on the word, "I'm not going to let your people starve if I can help it. This ship is equipped with a LF battery, right?"

"Aff. We have one charge left. I always kept one charge in reserve in case we might need to make an emergency escape jump."

"Except it didn't, and couldn't help you when we sprung the trap." Ian massaged his temples with his hands to ease the headache coming on as a result of the information on the datapad, "But that extra charge comes in handy now. Here're your orders, Galaxy Commander Kotare. Get us to Illiushin ASAP. I have holdings there, and the planet is advanced and rich enough that it has a pretty nice agricultural surplus. You could use that." Landsmark was barely able to support itself, and even the past few weeks had been tough on the planetary economy with the extra Taurian troops and pirate prisoners.

"We're more than 30 light years from Illiushin." Benny pointed out. "It'll take two jumps."

"All the more reason to hurry before the food runs out." Ian stabbed a finger at Greg Kotare accusingly. "Since I have inherited this mess of a command of yours, that makes me responsible from now on."

Ian pushed off for the door, before he remembered something at the exit of the medical bay. He turned back to Greg Kotare and the other officers, shell-shocked from his rapid fire orders. "Oh, and one more thing. Cut off those silly bondcords. You're warriors still, not bondsmen, so act like it. I want everybody on station helping out when we get to Illiushin. Let's get to it, folks."

The surprised Jaguars all snapped to attention, or as much as they were able to in microgravity conditions, and answered, "Aff!"

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Well, that was… predictable. For those pissed at the OOC-ness of the Jaguars, well, chalk that one down to author contrivance. Besides, unless they fell in with the Word of Blake, trying to keep a warship operable isn't exactly easy. What happens when you need fuel? Spare parts? Which is why the _Streaking Mist_ didn't appear here. They stripped it of its parts(cannibalized it), and mothballed it in the Deep Periphery, using the _Osis__' Pride_ and the ten plus dropships to get around instead.

Food was another problem. Remember, this was a society of warriors, technicians, and sibko cadets. Not exactly well balanced, and operating on a string because they did not have a lot of time to prepare for this extended exodus.

The Trial of Possession was a bit of a hump to get over. I didn't want Ian to win too easily, since I've read too many fics where the clanners always seems to get their asses kicked by the Inner Sphere warriors. Remember, these are warriors who have trained their whole lives in actual combat. You tell me they get beaten that easily? No way. So I had Ian win only because he decided to take the hit and surprise his opponent, dumping his opponent by ring out. And as the short scene after the fight showed, anybody would have thought Ian was the loser.

Here's this chapter's bonus mech. Beware of this bad boy in open field combat! It can tear even a _Daishi_ apart!

Type/Model:    Herald

Tech:          Clan / 3070

Config:        Biped BattleMech

Rules:         Level 2, Standard design

Mass:          90 tons

Chassis:       Mynx Type IV Endo Steel

Power Plant:   270 VOX Fusion

Walking Speed: 32.4 km/h

Maximum Speed: 54.0 km/h

Jump Jets:     None

Jump Capacity: 0 meters

Armor Type:    Composite RT6 Standard

Armament:     

  1 EMRG "Galaxy" Series Gauss Rifle

  2 Kolibri Delta Series AAR Large Pulse Lasers

  1 Series 2b ER Medium Laser

  2 Type XV LRM 15s

Manufacturer:  Irece Alpha

  Location:    Irece

Communications System:  JNE II Integrated

Targeting & Tracking System:  Build 4 CAT TTS

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==Overview:==

After the events of the Ghost Bear-Draconis Combine War, the Nova Cats decided they needed new designs in their touman to help defend the clan against a variety of new threats.

They came up with a powerful second line design that could take on almost all comers in combat. As an omen of momentous events to come, the first Herald walked off the production lines on Irece in 3067.

==Capabilities:==

The Herald is an awesome long range combatant, with a gauss rifle, two large pulse lasers, and two LRM racks with three tons of ammunition all ready to pummel enemies from afar. As if that was not enough, the gauss rifle and large pulse lasers are tied into a targeting computer, which enables the Herald to pick out weak spots on an enemy mech. Coupled with the natural marksmanship ability possessed by most Nova Cat warriors, this makes the Herald seem invincible to most opponents.

A medium laser seems almost superfluous at close range, and it is often the last weapon system to be worked on by the techs, to the consternation of the warriors.

The Herald has near maximum armor coverage, but the mech's slow speed is a flaw only in offensive operations. Since the Nova Cats have no intention of using the Herald in fast/cavalry attacks, this is not as big a problem as it seems.

==Battle History:==

**_Classified_**

==Notable 'Mechs & MechWarriors:==

**_Classified_**

==Deployment==

**_Classified_**

--------------------------------------------------------

Type/Model:    Herald

Mass:          90 tons

Equipment:                                 Crits    Mass

Int. Struct.:  138 pts Endo Steel            7      4.50

 (Endo Steel Loc: 1 HD, 2 LA, 1 RA, 1 LT, 1 LL, 1 RL)

Engine:        270 Fusion                    6     14.50

   Walking MP:   3

   Running MP:   5

   Jumping MP:   0

Heat Sinks:     16 Double [32]              12      6.00

 (Heat Sink Loc: 2 LT, 3 RT, 1 CT)

Gyro:                                        4      3.00

Cockpit, Life Supt.:                         5      3.00

Actuators: L: ShUALA    R: ShUALA       14       .00

Armor Factor:  272 pts Standard              0     17.00

                          Internal    Armor

                          Structure   Value

   Head:                      3          9     

   Center Torso:             29         43     

   Center Torso (Rear):                 14     

   L/R Side Torso:           19      30/30     

   L/R Side Torso (Rear):              8/8     

   L/R Arm:                  15      30/30     

   L/R Leg:                  19      35/35     

Weapons and Equipment    Loc  Heat  Ammo   Crits    Mass

--------------------------------------------------------

1 Gauss Rifle            RA      1   16      8     14.00

  (Ammo Locations: 2 RA)

2 Large Pulse Lasers     LA     20           4     12.00

1 ER Medium Laser        RT      5           1      1.00

2 LRM 15s                LT     10   24      7     10.00

  (Ammo Locations: 3 LT)

1 Targeting Computer     RT                  5      5.00

--------------------------------------------------------

TOTALS:                         36          73     90.00

Crits & Tons Left:                           5       .00

Calculated Factors:

Total Cost:        9,481,000 C-Bills

Battle Value:      2,454

Cost per BV:       3,863.49

Weapon Value:      5,459 / 5,459 (Ratio = 2.22 / 2.22)

Damage Factors:    SRDmg = 51;  MRDmg = 45;  LRDmg = 31

BattleForce2:      MP: 3,  Armor/Structure: 7/7

                   Damage PB/M/L: 8/6/6,  Overheat: 0

                   Class: MA;  Point Value: 25

-------------------------------------------------------

**Marwynn**: Sorry, no Smoked Jags here! :P

**Tangmeister**: The Star Adder victory had serious ramifications in clan space. The Star Adders became demonstrably more aggressive after the Great Refusal. Also, the Free Worlds League military harboured serious doubts about their military capability as a result of their loss, something not mentioned in canon reports, but which I would pick up on. This would affect their own ability to deal with their civil war. Besides, it's fun when Descartin turns up. evil grin

**Roastpuff**: Dude, the _Squisher_ is 20 tons and costs just over a million C-bills! That's what I call value for money! If the _Squisher_ came up against the mechs you mentioned in its preferred environment, a city, the other mechs lose. Why? Because their superior speed works against them. Go fast, skid, fall down, ouch. Also, put them in the role of fighting infantry, vehicles in a city, and they also fare poorly. The _Squisher_ is a niche mech. Use it appropriately for best results.

**Duo**: Slowing down… slightly. Been working on something for BattleCorps. Not writing fic for Loren though. Sigh.

**Eddys**: Notice that the assassins weren't really supposed to win. The WoB wanted Minoru to report the incident to Santin, and hopefully sway the decision to have the Nova Cats aid Hohiro. And if Minoru got killed, well, all the better. This is what they call a 'can't lose proposition'. Except in this case, Minoru did have his doubts... Complicated, right?

**Sphinx**: You should have seen Tsui Hark's slashfest _The Blade_. That one was wicked for the crazy and utterly dizzying action sequences. A single one-armed swordsman wielding a broken sword with only half the original blade length(used as a kitchen chopper in certain parts) spinning and slashing his way past hordes of enemies. And when he attaches a chain to the chopper like a _kusari-gama_… WOOT! Look for it. You won't be disappointed.

**UnarmedBystander**: Mechs might be appearing in the next chapter. Unfortunately, I am pretty sure the first mechs Frank will be messing with are measly _Wasp_s and _Stinger_s! BWAHAHAHAHA!!!

Next chapter brings us to Frank in the jungle, trying to survive. And maybe his first mission. Probably. After that we're back to Irece.

Please review, as always!


	20. Meronac

_The guerrillas of Terra were determined and smart. More than that, they were really unconventional in their tactics._

-_The Word of Blake Contagion_, Frank Meronac

----------------------------------------------------------------------

_Brazil, Terra_

_Chaos March_

_4th November 3068_

_Welcome to the jungle _

_We've got fun 'n' games _

_We got everything you want _

_Honey, we know the names_

It had been a tough four weeks of hell in the training camp. Frank didn't know if he had been in better fighting condition in his whole life. He had developed muscle groups he had only read about in medical texts but never actually worked, not even at the Outreach Mercenary Training Course. Hell, he even had a six pack on his abdomen!

There were 6 mile runs every day, gruelling PT with logs, and swimming in the torrid waters of some river the instructors did not bother to say the name of. There were crocodiles said to be lurking in the river, and if _that_ wasn't enough incentive to swim fast…

_Fun n games_, Frank groused in the cockpit of his _Stinger_ light mech, recalling the combat training exercises they were put through. _Yeah, those were real fun._ The training had been gruelling to the extreme, and the nearly daily migraine attacks were his only reprieve.

But he supposed it could have been worse.

_We are the people that can find _

_Whatever you may need _

_If you got the money, honey _

_We got your disease_

Physical training wasn't all there was to the camp. Frank found himself familiarising himself with all sorts of weaponry from support grade weapons to molecular thin monoblades that could be secreted anywhere on the body. He breezed through this part of the program, thanks to the knowledge dumped into his head.

He didn't quite know how the resistance managed to afford some of the more exotic weaponry though. And some of the advanced equipment that were demonstrated were nothing ever seen before on the battlefields of the Inner Sphere. There were helmets with built in visors that could show what the other members of a combat section were seeing. Grenades that floated in midair and could actually home in on enemies by tracking their heat signatures, and then exploding into some fine mist that could conduct electricity over a ten meter radius. Bullets that contained minuscule sensors that conveyed information to the firer.

And the various hacking tools that enabled the rebels to hijack anything from a privately owned car to a Word of Blake battlemech. Frank got the feeling that most of the units the resistance managed to field were obtained this way.

The most curious quirk about the whole thing was that nothing was ever mentioned about their possible sponsors. Frank knew he had not been in the business long enough, but when the rebels were able to get a cutting edge MRI lab working, it meant that some serious money was behind the entire effort. He didn't feel comforted by the fact; he just got more wary.

_I'm getting paranoid in my old age,_ Frank chided himself. _Still, there's something really fishy about all this._ He had sent out very tentative feelers on the Illuminati, but he had gotten nothing back so far except blank looks.

_In the jungle _

_Welcome to the jungle _

_Watch it bring you to your _

_knees, knees _

_I wanna watch you bleed_

The instructors were a bunch of sadists, Frank was sure of it. He had lost count of the number of times members of the training unit were forced to drop out of runs due to sheer exhaustion. They were constantly pushed to beyond their limits, on insufficient sleep and just-about-enough food.

It was hell. But the mental toughness he had gained was invaluable.

And strangely enough, more than half the cohort managed to pass out in a short and perfunctory ceremony. They would be dispersed all over the world, to Africa, to Europe, to Asia, strengthening the resistance groups present and tying up even more Blakist resources. They would also try to find out exactly what the Word of Blake had been up to. All that money in taxes had to be going _somewhere_.

Their top priority, however, was the liberation of Terra.

_Welcome to the jungle _

_We take it day by day _

_If you want it you're gonna bleed _

_But it's the price you pay_

None of the resistance fighters would be able to rest easy the moment they agreed to join the battle. The Word of Blake had most of their names, and probably kept tabs on their families and friends. Many of the recruits were rescued from the various internment camps and prisons the Word of Blake operated, arrested under drummed up charges.

And like sheep, the majority of Terrans simply accepted those sentences. No matter that it might have been their neighbours, their co-workers, their friends. Nope, the law is always right.

Frank knew he was being hard on the native Terrans, but there had been striking parallels in humanity's history before, particularly one instance of a madman named Hitler.

Terra had previously been governed by a semi-independent council of representatives from regions all over the world, but it had been disbanded when the Word of Blake took over Terra. The council had just been reconstituted recently, but there was every indication that it was just a council of Blakist puppets to rubber stamp any decisions made by the Blakists.

The soldiers of the resistance would not be able to get close to their loved ones. No form of contact was allowed, since the Wobblies, with their advanced communications technology, could interdict any attempt. It was the price they had to pay for their lives, for being rescued from forced labour camps, or worse.

_And you're a very sexy girl _

_That's very hard to please _

_You can taste the bright lights _

_But you won't get them for free_

The worst part of the training involved some techniques to disguise and infiltration techniques. Much of it Frank knew already from the foreign implanted memories, but there were parts which stunned everybody.

It was after dinner and the recruits were all gathered around a hut for their non-physical lessons. When a particularly big and muscular male instructor came out in a dress with heavy makeup, and worse yet, did a sexy pose out of a pin up magazine(or tried to, in any case), more than half the recruits lost their dinner immediately.

Frank scowled. It was definitely easier for women to pretend to be men than the other way round. It had been an utter humiliation for him and all the male recruits when they had been forced to put that into practice, and then be nitpicked apart on their disguises by the women!

_In the jungle _

_Welcome to the jungle _

_Feel my, my, my serpentine _

_I, I wanna hear you scream_

His neurohelmet crackled with an incoming transmission, "Falcon Three, this is Falcon One, in position?"

Frank replied, "Affirmative. I'm at the river."

"Sit tight, this is going to be tricky."

This was his first operation with the resistance. There was a Blakist outpost in the Amazon Basin, and James Taffel had deemed it a perfect opportunity to blood his new recruits and hand the Blakists something to think about.

His _Stinger_ light mech had been modified to carry an ECM suite, and only had a single pathetic medium laser as offensive weaponry. It had also definitely seen better days when it had been one of the participants in Kerensky's liberation of Terra. Half the heat sinks were goners, the left shoulder actuator was jerky, and one jump jet in the right torso wasn't working.

Frank patted the console in front of him, hoping that the mech's distinguished history earned it enough karma for the day to survive.

_Welcome to the jungle _

_It gets worse here everyday _

_Ya__ learn ta live like an animal _

_In the jungle where we play_

Taffel's plan was simple. Use several ECM equipped mechs to gradually isolate the outpost in the jungle, then charge in with as much force as he could muster. Grab anything and everything in the outpost, and then get out without taking too much time.

The sticking problem in the plan was that the Blakists in the outpost might make a run for it. If they could get out in time from under the ECM blanket, they would be able to warn other Word of Blake forces in the area, particularly the Castle Brian not too far away. VTOL and aerospace elements could be upon them in minutes. Even with Rod jamming the satellites in orbit, fading away under harassment by VTOLs would be next to impossible.

Frank's role, like the other 4 mechs scattered around the area, were to prevent any Blakist elements from escaping their ECM net.

"Heads up, going in!" Taffel was Falcon One, and as he spoke, Frank could hear the discharge of lasers in the background, followed by several explosions.

The communications frequency was packed with snapped orders and warnings, plus the jubilant yells whenever somebody got a kill, and the inevitable bitching whenever somebody got hit. Frank got more nervous, his fingers twitching around the control sticks of the _Stinger_.

_If you got a hunger for what you see _

_You'll take it eventually _

_You can have anything you want _

_But you better not take it from me_

Then there was a yell, "Two hovercraft, Maxims, getting away! Heading southwest on the river!"

Taffel ordered coolly, "Falcon Three, intercept."

_A Stinger against two Maxims? _Frank asked glumly, "Intercept them with what? I have only one med laser!"

"Figure it out. Try to delay them. I'm sending Falcon Five behind you, but he'll need time to get behind you downstream." Falcon Five was Mog in an _Assassin_.

"Roger that." Well, what else was he going to say? Frank moved the _Stinger_ up from its previous crouching position beside the river. _I have about 30 seconds before those hovertanks come down. Dammit, what to do?_

Frank looked at the river. _About 20 meters across here. The hovertanks can go double up, or single file. Single file is risky because if the front hovertank flips, the one behind will get crash into it. Double up, they might collide because of the narrow width…_

An idea popped into his brain. It was a crazy as hell, but the only one he had managed to think up. He hammered some commands into his console, and waited. The jungle around him seemed more oppressive than before.

_In the jungle _

_Welcome to the jungle _

_Watch it bring you to your _

_knees, knees _

_I wanna watch you bleed_

Sure enough, the radar started showing the two Maxims barrelling down the river at prodigious speeds in double up formation. Frank had a death grip around his control joysticks, realizing with a sinking feeling that he should have ran his insane plan through somebody else first.

Then they were almost past his position, and he punched in his jump jets by stomping hard on his foot pedals. One of the advantages in moving an ultra-light mech like the _Stinger_ was the undeniable ease in manoeuvring, even while jumping. It felt completely different from jumping his ponderous _Night Gyr_, which felt as though he was leaping with weights attached to his back and legs. The _Stinger_ felt quick and nimble in comparison.

The river waters churned around the airskirts of the hovertanks, and they did not seem to have noticed his presence due to the ECM jamming. Frank was sweating bullets and praying hard as he feathered the jets to position the _Stinger_ correctly. _God, please don't let me mess this up!_

He pushed the _Stinger_ high up, and that was when the hovercraft saw him. They started swerving desperately, since their speed on the river with only air as the source of friction wasn't going to be reduced so quickly, and switching the direction of the air flow from the fans from backwards to forwards would likely to result in the entire hovertank flipping forward due to the sudden change in vectors.

Limited by the width of the river, the hovercraft had to keep on going. With the _Stinger_ hanging over their heads. Frank reduced the thrust, and the _Stinger_ began to dip downwards. Heat bloomed into his cockpit, and he gasped for cool air.

_And when you're high you never _

_Ever want to come down, YEAH!_

_Here goes nothing!_ Frank held back on the jets, leaving the last of the jump juice as reserve for his crazy death-from-above attack. The _Stinger_ plummeted from the skies feet first as the hovercraft swerved desperately to avoid it. Their evasion was hampered by the narrow width of the river, the thick jungle on either side, and each other.

The _Stinger_ smashed down onto one Maxim hovertank with a disgusting screech of tearing metal, and the hovercraft dipped down into the water ever… so… closely, the airskirt almost touching the water surface, which would have crashed the hovertank into the water which would have almost certainly wrecked it. The _Stinger_, for its part, had landed almost squarely in the midsection of the hovertank, and for an observer, looked as if it was treating the much heavier hovertank as its own private surfboard.

Frank banged his head against the front of his console, but the neurohelmet provided sufficient cushion. Also, he had been prepared for the impact, and he recovered quickly, his hands still on the controls. He moved the left arm of the _Stinger_, punching the hand through the armour in front of the _Stinger_, then quickly grappled his own left hand into the glove-like manipulator, reaching with the fingers on that hand and grabbing something, anything tight. The Maxim began to buck from side to side to dislodge its passenger, but the _Stinger _held on. And there were a few bangs against the back of the mech's legs, a result of the Maxim firing off its turret's SRMs at his mech.

_You know where you are _

_You're in the jungle baby _

_You're gonna die _

_In the jungle_

The mechwarrior allowed himself a slight grin. The first part of his crazy plan had worked. Now for the other hovertank, which was in front and slowing down to keep pace with its compatriot. Also, its turret swung towards him, ready to pummel him with a swarm of missiles.

"Oh no, you don't!" Frank yelled as he stomped on his foot pedals again. The jump jets of the _Stinger_ were all mounted on the torso, and if he placed them at a certain angle…

_Welcome to the jungle _

_Watch it bring you to your _

_knees, knees _

_In the jungle _

_Welcome to the jungle_

_Feel my, my, my serpentine_

The hovercraft below him was clearly unprepared when the unwieldy pair suddenly speeded up, boosted by the jump jets on the _Stinger_. Frank angled the _Stinger_ and the jets such that they were accelerating towards the other Maxim. The Maxim below him tried to do otherwise, change the direction of travel, but the sheer brute force of the jets temporarily overcame the driving power of its airskirts, and Frank gritted his teeth for the collision as the second Maxim loomed large in his sights.

Then there was a horrid crashing sound, and Frank found his mech thrown up into the air more than fifty meters up into the air from the incredible impact of the two hovercraft. He took one look at the fast approaching waters of the river surface, and only had time to utter a single word as he felt gravity pull the hapless _Stinger_ down and forward.

"Crap."

_In the jungle _

_Welcome to the jungle _

_Watch it bring you to your _

_knees, knees _

_In the jungle _

_Welcome to the jungle _

_Watch it bring you to your _

_It's gonna bring you down-HA!_

----------------------------------------------------------------------

"So, that was a nice stunt you pulled back here." James Taffel tried not to laugh at the heavily bandaged face of William Horry, who was sucking nutrients into his mouth through a straw. With his face still sore from smashing into the _Stinger_'s cockpit controls, that was the only way for Horry to eat. For a few days, anyway. "The _Stinger _is totalled. You were lucky the river wasn't too deep, and our men could pull you out."

"Yeah, you didn't tell me to keep the _Stinger_ intact, did you?" William glared at him. "And what's more, it was damn near impossible to kill those two Maxims before they got away! Maybe _you_ should try riding a hovertank as a surfboard one of these days, huh?"

Taffel held up his hands, "Woah, easy there! I'm not blaming you. In fact, you did incredibly well." He sighed, "I was already ordering our troops to bug out when I gave your orders. I certainly wasn't going to risk losing my entire battlegroup by depending on a single light mech up against two hovertanks!"

Horry grimaced. "But after the Maxims were killed?"

"Mog's _Assassin_ arrived in time to see the wrecks of the two Maxims, and that allowed me to continue our raid. We got quite a lot of equipment from the outpost too. All in all, it was a nice trade."

Horry pursed his lips, "Any mechs?"

Taffe grinned, "A few. Some very good stuff, but…"

"But?"

"You won't be driving them. Migraine, remember?"

Horry slapped his forehead lightly with one palm, "Oh yeah. Until then, I'm stuck in expendables."

Taffel patted Horry on a shoulder, "Don't be too hard on yourself. If today is any indication, you're one heck of a mechwarrior, and that makes twice you've saved our bacons." He continued, "I don't care if you're jockeying a lousy _Stinger_, an even lousier agromech, or a clan _Daishi_. The true worth of a mechwarrior lies in himself, not the mech."

Taffel knew the younger fighter still lacked confidence in himself, but Horry nodded slowly at his encouraging words. He asked, "Still, I'd like to know. What _did_ we get?"

"You'd love this. Two _Wyverns_ and a _Guillotine_ as salvage from the outpost garrison, plus an experimental _Exterminator_ outfitted with stealth armour." Taffel smiled eagerly. "Our tech boys and girls are salivating over the _Exterminator_ right now."

Horry blinked. "Why would the Word of Blake be testing a mech like that here?"

Taffel replied, "Anonymity. The jungles of South America are some of the most obscure places in the world. There's lots of trees here, and tall enough to hide even mechs."

"But they had to know we were hiding around as well…"

"Yes, and some data we got from their files suggests they were going to test it out on us." Taffel smirked, "Too bad for them we got our hands on their toy first."

"So what's next for us after this milk run of yours, which didn't turn out to be a easy for me at all?"

Taffel took out a small notepad out of his pocket, "We're going back to North America. From the records we've discovered in the outpost pertaining to the _Exterminator_, we've found two projects associated with the _Exterminator_. Their codenames are _Vampire _and _Blaze_, testing out stealth technology and fusion engine superchargers. Our mission right now is to find out exactly what these projects are about, and throw a monkey wrench in if necessary."

"Sounds tough." Horry placed his empty soup bowl back on a table, and leaned back with a satisfied burp. "Oops."

"Don't worry about it. Besides, you knew what you signed up for."

"Not really," Horry said, then his battered face suddenly scrunched up, "Oh no… here it comes again…" He shut his eyes, obviously in pain from the migraine attack. His hands flew to his head, gripping his hair, while his entire body tensed up.

Taffel shook his head sadly as he left the room to get some medical attention for Horry. _Poor bastard._

----------------------------------------------------------------------

That's it for this chapter. Short, I know, but hopefully that alleviates the action junkie in some readers! I've been working on something else the past week, the infamous NC-17 fic in some other fandom and one submission to BattleCorps(up, finally got off my butt to write something up). The BattleCorps short story was finished in one day, and I've just sent it by post(damn, but the postage for the manuscript was expensive). Hopefully they'll accept it. Has action, humour, and even a bit of romance in just 5000 words! Can't be any worse than some of the pap they've put out so far. Like that horrible piece Jean Rabe wrote for MW: DA. Yearrrrgggghhhh…

If it doesn't get accepted, well then, you guys get another short fic for free!

**Marwynn**: I'm still waiting. When's your next chapter for any fic going to come out!?!

**Tangmeister**: Yup, big, big mess for Ian. Notice that he got everybody to stay mum about it? That's just about the last thing he needed. But you know what? They might just come in handy…

**Roastpuff**: There was a long and detailed discussion on EMP and mechs on heavymetalpro.com. Cray and a few others discussed the issue at length. You can read it here. stuff mentioned there! As for your mech… well, it's a bit slow for 3025, and worse yet, while it has a nice ranged capability(30 points), up close a good medium mech can literally rape it, since it cannot dictate the engagement distance at all with 3/5 speed. A nice fire support deign, but nothing that would make you use it over, say, a _Longbow_ or an _Archer_.

**eddys**: You'll find quite a few more references to LOTR before long! BTW, EMP is about electromagnetic radiation(photons), not electrons(charged particles). I defined EMP in the link above. What this radiation does is to excite atoms and cause them to emit photoelectrons(something I'm familiar with). A melee weapon with excess electrons is still a nifty idea though.

**MedronPryde**: Glad you liked the Jags.

**Gunderk**: I so don't want to think about the length right now. I'm not even halfway through! collapses in exhaustion

**Valefore**: Naginata? Glaive? You gotta ask Marwynn this. He's the Japanese warrior expert.

**Duo**: Soon. Soon. I hope. sweatdrops What does Ian do with a warship? He can't because he just found out that the engine is in need of an overhaul, the NPPCs are mostly unoperable, and the life support systems are on… well, life support. Heh.

**FrankensteinJr**: The Law of Unintended Consequences. But Ian is going to go nuts when he gets back to New Vandenburg!

**Sphinx**: Hmmm… I remember that movie… vaguely. Still prefer the movies from us Chinese though. :D

**K-Dawg**: sputters in laughter Gathering of pimps?!? Man, that's a good one! scribbles down in his notes

**Thunder**: Realism? Shhhh… don't speak of this obscene word! And yes, it's moving slowly, even for me. Still. Urgh. Can't the eggheads invent a writing device that transmits our thoughts into words? I'll write much faster this way!

**ngtm1r**: Respect the _Stinger_! It killed two Maxims in this chapter(by lots of author fiat).

**Neuromancer**: Well, I took your advice, wrote something for BattleCorps, and posted it to them. Rather unfortunately(for you guys who'd like me to be a full-time author and hoping that I flunk college ), I just got my final exams results back, and it seems I have graduated with a 2nd Class honours in Chemistry, plus a second major in the English Language. I'll be entering the local institute for teacher training in July, and when I get my diploma in education, I'll earn about $3000 a month(Singapore dollars) teaching. Good money, eh?

Next up, we go back to Irece. And we get a guest star! ETA: two weeks. And no cool unit this time. What's the _Blaze_ mentioned here? Your worst nightmare! BWAHAHAHAHA!!!


	21. Winters

_As a scientist, I never put much stock in the Nova Cats' mystical belief that they could somehow catch glimpses of the future in their visions._

_It was only quite a bit later that I started to believe. More than that, I think they've done the impossible: the selection and propagation of genetic traits for predicting the future._

-_Our Secret War_, Frank Meronac

_Irece___

_Irece__ Prefecture, Draconis Combine_

_6th November 3068_

The assault mech seemed like an unstoppable force of nature as it rampaged across the training field.

"Target at three o'clock!" Descartin tapped in the relevant information on his console, which would then show up as a priority task on Secorra's secondary HUD.

"Aff!" The solahma replied, and the _Herald_, fresh off the production lines, easily swung the torso around to face off against an approaching _Executioner_.

Descartin's hands twitched, and he admitted he would have preferred to be at the controls himself, but as it was, Secorra had already done him a great favour by allowing him to ride along in the new _Herald_ for this training run.

He never knew being dispossessed was so depressing. Even jockeying the Kuritan _Akuma_ would have been a lot better than sitting in the backseat of any mech. Hell, he should have asked Hohiro Kurita for at least a lousy _Tengu_!

Meanwhile, Secorra blazed away happily with the _Herald_'s long range arsenal, a staggering mix of gauss rifle, large pulse lasers, and LRM racks, along with a targeting computer for enhanced accuracy. What made it even more deadly was that it barely built up any excess heat from firing off that prodigious amount of weaponry.

Descartin observed with interest the results of that barrage as the _Executioner_ lost almost two tons of armour, albeit simulated loss, and collapsed onto the ground. The long range firepower of the _Herald _was indeed almost unprecedented.

Secorra kept the _Herald_ at a safe distance, switching over to his lasers only, and sending a storm of energy darts spraying over the prone form of the _Executioner_. He might be _solahma_, but he was not dumb. A prone target was slightly more difficult to hit, and Descartin knew Secorra did not want to waste ammunition on iffy shots under such conditions.

The _Executioner_ climbed back to its feet as the pulse lasers recharged, shrugging off the damage that it had suffered, and came on charging again. Descartin said, "It carries a ultra-heavy autocannon. Best not to get too close."

A grunt from Secorra was his only reply.

The Executioner was within medium combat range now, and the _Herald_'s accuracy climbed up another notch. Descartin took a closer look at the oncoming assault mech, and shouted, "Left torso is hanging open. Zero in on it."

"Aff." The large pulse lasers, with an assist from the targeting computer, could pick off clay targets the size of pigeons at five hundred meters. The rather large area of the _Executioner_'s left torso was by comparison easier to hit, even if the target was moving.

"I will not be going down so easily!" Star Commander Omar shouted over the comms. True to their natures, clan warriors did not like to lose, even in training. Especially to solahma.

"Actions, not words, cub." Secorra said dismissively as he blasted his way through the _Executioner_, dropping the assault mech with the loss of an entire limb and torso. Due to the benefits of clan extra-light engine technology, the _Executioner_ was still capable of fighting, but everybody knew the outcome already.

As Omar struggled to get his mech upright again, Secorra simply walked over and pointed his guns at Omar's cockpit. "Yield."

"Aff, I yield." Omar said reluctantly.

All of a sudden, the damage on the _Executioner_, simulated computer generated images that mimicked actual combat damage on the mechs, disappeared from their screens. Advanced CGI technology for training had not been part of the clan training regime in the past, with all sessions being live-fire with actual material damage, but recent events and lack of manufacturing facilities for the clan had forced them to use such training technology to conserve their supplies.

Truthfully speaking, Descartin thought it was a great idea. Such technology allowed them to keep at working their warrior skills over prolonged periods, instead of the one-off sessions with live ammunition and actual battle damage, plus the occasional casualty. It was also far less wasteful, even if there was not the same sense of danger and caution that live combat required.

After ten minutes, the two mechs marched into a hangar in the training base, bustling with technicians and warriors. Secorra powered down his mech, and Descartin clambered down to greet the ranking officer.

"Well, how was it?" Star Colonel Kalvin Rosse asked.

"A most impressive fighting design. The long range damage capacity and accuracy is incredible." Descartin glanced up at the _Herald_. "I wish we had such machines back in the invasion."

"So do I," Rosse agreed. "But it is all water under the bridge now. The _Herald_ will be our standard garrison assault mech, phasing out the old Star League vintage designs and the _Mad Cat Mk IIs_ we had been using to plug holes in our ranks." The tone of Rose indicated that he had no great love for the Diamond Shark produced _Mad Cat Mk II_. "Along with the _Supernova_ and the _Highlander IIC_, our second line units should be able to stand up to any Inner Sphere or even clan front line opposition."

Descartin nodded. The ease with which the _Herald_ had taken down the _Executioner_ showed that it was capable of holding off any enemy mech in a slugging match. The cheap cost of the design and its endurance would be a potent combination. Simulations matching the _Herald_ against the _Mad Cat Mk II _showed that the new design only suffered in offensive manoeuvres where speed was important. Otherwise, for garrison duties, the _Herald_ was very much superior.

Winters bowed slightly to Rosse, "Thank you for this eye opening trip, Star Colonel."

"No problem. Besides, it was Star Commander Secorra who wanted this." Kalvin flicked his eyes at the approaching _solahma_ warrior.

"And it was my way of thanking you, Descartin." Secorra smiled as he held out a hand, "It was a pleasure fighting by your side."

Descartin shook his hand solemnly, "Likewise. I never thought I would be saying this, Secorra, but thank you for my life."

"We are warriors. No matter what our differences in the past, in the midst of battle, we are comrades."

Descartin smiled, "Aff. We are not so different after all."

"Indeed, we are not, no matter our clan, the military we belong to." Kalvin added. "More than ten years ago, Winters, we were trying to kill Kuritans as quickly as we could see their mechs. Now, they fight by our side. And throughout it all, we are still the same, fighting for honour, for our loyalties. The fates laugh at us."

"It was an honour, Star Colonel." Descartin offered his hand to Kalvin, who shook it warmly. "And speaking of the fates, I have my own destiny to seek." He turned to Secorra. "Perhaps one day, we shall fight again side by side."

Secorra grinned, "Go, my friend. And I shall await the day when we might again fight together in a glorious cause."

Descartin stepped out of the hovercar, chauffeured by Workul. Workul and Tina followed him out, and Descartin was struck by the sight, as though he was retracing his past.

"Go back to the base," he ordered them. "I will call for you when I need to get back to New Barcella."

The exercise field in front of him, the hard-packed soil trampled by countless boots, wetted with rain and then baked by the unforgiving sun into something that could withstand even pounding mech feet. Several slightly decrepit buildings with the insignia of the Nova Cats painted on their sides stood to one side of the field.

The rows of cadets marching across the field made Descartin smile in melancholic memory. _Was it not so long ago, that I was one of them?_

Irece was a different planet from Barcella, and even the colour of the sky was a slightly different shade of blue, but it was all too familiar. Descartin stumbled slightly, his eyes seeing other scenes from his past. Faces of his sibkin flitted past his mind, and he found he could still attach names to the faces.

Those days in the sibko were some of the best in his life. Nothing except pushing oneself to the limits. No need to wonder if they were fighting for the right things, doing things that ate away at their souls at night. Just point where they were told to, pull the trigger, and shoot at lifeless targets until all they saw in their first Trial of Position were just huge metal targets instead of machines piloted by living, breathing human beings. Life was so much simpler. To become a warrior, that was all they had to do.

"Stay here." He told Workul and Tina. "If it is too hot, you can get back into the hovercar." Both of them did so with visible relief. Descartin shook his head, then started walking to the nearest building.

He was almost to the entrance when a female instructor walked out. She halted at the sight of him, and Descartin recognized Jazelyn with a tinge of surprise.

"Instructor Jazelyn!" He called out. He noted the grey and white hairs on her head, as well as the wrinkled lines of her face. _She is old. And Varro Drummond would be even older. Is this what Biccon Winters wanted me to see? My own future? Or something else?_

"Descartin. It has been a long time." She did not seem too surprised at his presence. "Biccon Winters told us of your arrival." She smiled slightly. "Come."

She led him into the building. They walked past the faded and sparse walls of the barracks, lined by training rooms and classrooms. Some of them were even occupied. They walked past a room full of teenage cadets listening to a scientist on mech construction.

Some of the cadets were sleeping on their desks, oblivious to the world. Descartin grinned, remembering occasions where he sneaked in a nap or two himself. The more attentive ones looked up when they saw him walk past, curiosity writ large on their faces.

Jazelyn stayed quiet throughout their short trip, but that was fine by him.

They entered the Training Commander's office, and he was not surprised to see the grizzled form of Varro Drummond sitting behind a desk. Old reflexes came to the fore, and Descartin stood to stiff attention.

Varro smiled wryly, "You are not a cadet anymore, Star Captain."

Descartin shifted his feet to the at-ease position, "I respect my elders." And Varro looked old indeed. He had lost a great deal of hair, and what remained was totally white. However, Varro seemed more at ease. Looking back, Descartin realised that the officer had been discontent with his position in the clan. Obviously, he had gotten over it.

The older man nodded, "You have gone a long way since I sent you off after your Trial of Position, so many years ago. How many clans, and how many battles have you been through?"

Descartin scoffed, "More than I want to remember."

"And have you ever wondered why?"

"Why what?"

Varro leaned back, and spoke somewhat indulgently, "Why your path was so different. And just how you had managed to bounce from clan to clan, learning their ways, their customs. Was it fate, destiny? And why? What would it lead to?"

Descartin waved the questions away, "Questions I have no answers, and even less use for."

Varro sighed, "That is what most of us have been taught to think. We were told from the moment we are decanted not to look beyond our hands, our weapons. The way of the clans is a harsh path, and few of us would ever have the chance to grasp the greater realities outside of that path. Like you have."

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prick up. "I did not know you were keeping track of my movements." It was not difficult to feel paranoid. How long had Varro been observing him? And more importantly, why?

"It was easy enough when you were with the clans, though you did disappear for the past few months. It was only when Jaime Wolf contacted us that I found out you were on Outreach." Varro paused, then asked, "What happened in the Periphery?"

Descartin stiffened. The memories were still too fresh, too raw. The smell of burnt combat circuits, his own fear, the stench of his own blood and sweat, the heat washing from his weapons fire, the sight of the black mechs, the incandescent light from above, the screams from the mercs, Deserk's last roar…

"The Periphery?" Varro prompted again.

"Nothing there except Death." Descartin said simply. "I lost something of myself there. I do not know what." He was getting a bit ticked off. What was Varro after? He had came here to get answers, not more questions he had no answers to.

"Lost, or gained? Or could a loss be a gain as well?"

"Stop speaking in riddles," said Descartin softly.

"Very well." Varro replied, nonplussed. "Since your first vision years ago, it was clear you were meant for greatness. More importantly, the same scenes you saw, others saw as well. Taken together, they were potent omens of the future, of humanity's future."

"I was the cub, I knew that already. The animals were the various clans I have been through."

"And after that?"

Descartin blinked in surprise. "I have no idea. I did not see anything else."

"But we did, Jazelyn and I. We saw the future, your future, perhaps our future too."

His eyebrows twitched slightly. "What did you see?"

Jazelyn replied this time, "There are two paths. One leads to destruction. The other to unity, or at the very least, the status quo. The outcome may well rest on your choices."

Descartin paused, chewing over her words, before he spoke again. "Describe what you saw."

"It started like the vision you had when you were young. A lone cub, growing as it walked and learnt from the other totem beasts of the clans. Then it encountered an eagle, not of the clans."

Varro picked up where she left off, "After that, Jazelyn and me had different visions. In mine, the cub followed the eagle. A broadsword appeared, keen and deadly, the edge slick with blood. It swung towards the Inner Sphere, and the eagle and the cub managed to slow it by pulling on it. There appeared several other things, like a raging bull, two more swords, a dragon. They all pulled on the broadsword, and it eventually broke. There was a flash of light, and we saw a Cameron star appear."

Jazelyn then spoke, "But mine seemed to herald doom. The cub walked away from the eagle, and the broadsword sliced into the Inner Sphere. The stars themselves grew dark, as though all of humanity fell into everlasting night."

Descartin shivered. He was quite sure he was the cub, but the other elements were still a mystery.

Varro said, "We have told you what we know. We do not quite understand the rest of the vision, but with time comes understanding. The truth shall be revealed."

Winters nodded. It was not as if he could do anything else.

Varro straightened up from his chair suddenly, and smiled. "Enough of this dreary rigmarole of visions and prophecies of doom! Come, I would like to show you around our facilities and what our cadets now go through."

They left the office, and came to a small gym where 11 year old cadets were being drilled with _bokken_. An old and wizened Kuritan man barked out instructions to the cadets as they went through the movements.

Varro explained, "Since our alliance with the Draconis Combine, I have tried to recruit some of their older samurai as 'guest' instructors for our cadets, teaching them techniques in meditation, self control, and the sword. Not only will they learn more than we ever did, the experience will also enable them to appreciate the Inner Sphere better."

"Old Sasaki teaches them kendo, and there has been a noted improvement in their reaction times since the lessons have started." The training commander noted proudly.

As Varro talked, the old man ordered the cadets to pair off and start sparring. Descartin saw a black haired boy, tall for his age, easily disarm his partner. That boy seemed disappointed at the ease of his victory, and looked bored.

Descartin grinned, and walked forward, picking up a spare _bokken_ from a rack. It was hacked off at one end, but that was fine by him.

Varro looked at him, "What are you doing?"

Descartin grinned back at the man who had trained him as a cadet, "I am going to do to somebody what you did to me on my first day in a training centre."

Varro looked at the cadet, and Descartin noted that both his and Jazelyn's faces were suddenly full of concern. The Kuritan instructor watched Descartin carefully for a few moments, before nodding to himself and turning his attention back to the other cadets, as though giving him permission to intrude.

The cadet boy was still standing, obviously bored before Descartin placed himself in front of him. The boy blinked several times, more than a bit surprised.

"Who are you?" The boy asked.

"Just somebody who wants to spar." Descartin smiled again as he took up a ready stance.

The confused boy looked to Sasaki, who simply waved a hand in his direction. He turned back to Descartin, full of confidence in himself and his abilities. Descartin knew why; he was not wearing his own tabs which indicated his Star Captaincy. No doubt the boy thought he was facing a run-of-the-mill warrior. Never mind that his opponent carried a set of _daisho_.

Barely 5 seconds later, it was over. The boy found himself gasping for his breath after Descartin had slammed his short _bokken_ across his stomach. If it had been a real blade, the boy would have been eviscerated.

As Descartin looked up at Varro and Jazelyn, he noticed their hands were clasped together, and Varro's mouth was shaped in a thin line.

He leaned down towards the gasping boy, "What is your name, cadet?"

The boy managed to squeak out, "Glaincer."

"Very well, Glaincer. Mark my name, for I am Descartin Winters. You have potential, make sure you fulfil it." He walked away, taking the time to bow respectfully to Sasaki, who bowed back.

"What was that for?" Varro asked as Descartin made his way back to them to continue their tour of the facilities.

"He had potential, that cadet. I only wish to give him something to aim for." Descartin smiled tightly.

"Such as yourself?" Jazelyn replied. "I do not know whether to feel grateful or angry."

"Believe it or not, Varro was my target when I was training. I told myself, that is who I want to be when I am a warrior. It took me years to realise that." Descartin paused, then added, "What is cadet Glaincer to the two of you?"

Varro did not reply immediately, as though thinking over his words. Then he exchanged a meaningful look with Jazelyn, and said, "He is our son."

"I did not realise mixed sibkos were now common." Descartin remarked as he followed them out of the training centre after the tour was finished, and Varro having just given his account of the past fifteen years. "Furthermore, I never expected a trueborn warrior to have given birth in the old way. Jazelyn, why?"

She smiled at Varro as she replied, "Because I wanted so much to pass on my genetic legacy. And since I could not get my bloodname…" she shrugged, "This was my solution."

A spark of realisation occurred to Descartin. "You had a chance at a bloodname, _quiaff_?" He did not wait for a reply, "And you had to throw it away because of your vision."

"Aff. You are perceptive," Varro remarked. "You could not imagine how angry I was when she told me she was pregnant because she had stopped taking contraceptives. It took me a while to accept that, but now I find myself as proud of the boy as any trueborn spawned from my legacy."

Another question came to Descartin, "He does not know, _quineg_?"

Jazelyn said, "_Neg_, he does not know who his parents are. We placed him into a mixed sibko since he was born. He knows he is a freeborn, but it has not deterred him any." She smiled proudly. "His scores threaten to exceed yours."

Descartin shrugged nonchalantly, "Well, that is progress for you."

Varro led him out of the building to a small hovercar. "Come, there is somebody I would like you to meet. I think you would appreciate it."

"You should be dead." Descartin Winters whispered in disbelief at the grotesque face of the man sitting before him. He sat on a chair around the dining table in the kitchen of a picturesque small house, complete with a nice lawn, a field of growing grain, and some livestock.

That was not surprising in itself. It was the identity of the man who ran the place that surprised him.

Trent, formerly of the Smoke Jaguars, nodded his head solemnly, "I have heard of you, Star Captain Winters. It is an honour."

Descartin shook his head to focus himself. "Aff, it is for me as well. I also know of any number of clansmen who would dearly wish to claim your life."

Trent smiled. "We might have fought on opposite sides of the Great Refusal, but underneath it all, outside our loyalties, we are not so different."

"Perhaps." Descartin allowed.

"Dinner is ready!" Trent's wife, Judith Faber, emerged from the kitchen with several steaming pots of food on a tray. Jazelyn and Varro followed with more utensils and food, Varro somewhat grumpily since he had felt it beneath his position. Two young boys, about seven years old with strong chins that were the hallmarks of the Howell bloodline, obviously twins, stared up at Descartin's _daisho_ on a clothes rack with undisguised awe. One of them would occasionally reach up, as though to take the swords, but one glare from their father stopped them.

It looked like any normal home throughout the Inner Sphere from what Descartin had seen on late night holovids in his time in the Inner Sphere, but what made it seem so absurd to him were the people themselves. 4 clan warriors, a former Comstar spy, playing at family. It was a surreal experience, to say the least.

_Or maybe_, he thought, _this is the true reality, and I am the one living in illusion all my life._ "I heard from my contacts of the battle between the Ice Hellions and the Cats. Your _Timber Wolf_ was said to have been charged off a cliff, and no body was found."

"Simple." Trent explained. "During the battle, my ejection mechanism was damaged, and when my mech fell over the cliff, I managed to pop my cockpit hatch. Nobody saw me climb out of my mech as it was falling, and I was lucky enough to remain conscious. I jumped out and dug in with my dagger into the hard ice on the side of the cliff. When the battle was over, I managed to climb up the cliff and make my way to the command post."

Varro cut in, "Star Captain Shen Drummond was the ranking officer then, and he made the decision to keep it a secret. Imagine if the Crusaders had known about Trent's survival. They would have stopped at nothing to wipe out our people back in the homeworlds."

Descartin nodded. He had not taken part in the bloody conflict sparked by the departure of the Ghost Bears and Nova Cats, but he had heard plenty of stories as well. Of mindless slaughter and the venting of Crusader frustration on the civilians of the Nova Cats.

"I travelled in secret with members of the clan here, and Khan Santin West arranged to have Judith transported here." Despite Trent's ruined face, he smiled gently at Judith, who smiled back.

She said, "I had to give up my position with Comstar. But when I heard Trent was still alive after I had been told that he was dead, nothing could have stopped me from going to his side."

Trent continued, "We got married almost immediately, and Commander Drummond here was kind enough to allow us to stay near the training facility and keep our skills sharp."

"But you have given up the life of a warrior." Descartin said, "Is such a loss worth it?"

"Neg. I have gained something much greater. Contentment, and peace." Trent smiled widely, and then gestured, "Enough talk for now. Come, let us eat!"

Dinner was simple yet fulfilling. Descartin found himself recalling the meals he would had back on Luthien. He wondered how the Tanakas were doing. Had they managed to survive the battle? Not for the first time, he felt as though he had left a task undone. The Black Dragons were engaged with Hohiro Kurita in a massive conflict, yet he was an outsider, not supposed to be involved. It did not make him feel any better.

After dinner and the cleaning up, he went outside the house to the lawn, and stared up at the night sky. He slowly sipped from a can of local beer, savouring the cool liquid over his tongue.

He heard footsteps, and turned to see Trent. "Yes?"

"I wish to talk to you some more. Varro thinks it is good for you."

Descartin laughed, "Varro always thought he knew what was best for me, even now that I am past thirty-five and belong to another clan." He fixed his gaze on Trent. "I see you and Judith, and then I see Varro and Jazelyn, and I wonder what is to become of the clans. When did we come to this?" He cocked his head in the direction of the house, an the sound of laughter booming out. It seemed that one of the boys had said something silly.

"We learned to be people," Trent said seriously. "We learned there was more to life than battle after battle without resolution." He waved his arms over the farm. "Look at this! When I first arrived, the fields were barren. Nothing grew well here. This place created nothing. _I _created nothing, not once in all my life as a Smoke Jaguar."

"I had to work hard to learn the skills for farming. To swallow my pride and hire a labourer to guide me. It took time and a lot of effort, but look at me today. People are fed by what I produce here. I have two strong boys, and a loving wife. A family to be proud of. I am finally a creator, Star Captain, not a destroyer. I am giving something back to the universe."

"But never to be a warrior again? It is the dream of every true clansman."

Trent pursed his lips. "I do not deny I miss the thrill of battle. The power that comes from commanding mechs and men in combat. But it is another life, when I was a Smoke Jaguar warrior, and I could not see what else I could be."

The man regarded as a traitor by the clans continued, "Nobody said our roles in life had to be so strictly defined. I am still a warrior, as is Judith. But we are also parents, lovers, and farmers now. When the time comes, I may be a warrior again. I take up each role as the situation demands."

Descartin waited before replying, enjoying the cool breeze on his hair. "You have great wisdom, Trent of the Howell bloodname."

Trent laughed softly. "There will be no more Howells, unless the clan somehow gets resurrected by some miracle. I am content to be just Trent, without a bloodname."

"What about your two boys? What names will they take?"

"It does not matter. They can be whatever they wish to be." Trent grinned slightly. "They are trying to pester Varro into allowing them into the mechwarrior training program."

Descartin raised an eyebrow. "And you will allow that?"

"Aff, next year." Trent nodded. "Despite what I have said about being a warrior, there are still some things that comes from being a warrior that I will never regret. It shall teach them the values of strength, courage, and honour."

"Aff." Descartin agreed. He stayed with Trent for a little while longer on the lawn, talking about their experiences and their future plans. After finishing their beers, they went back into the house, just in time for a impromptu mech combat competition on the holovid system with the boys.

Descartin spent the night in the guest room while Varro and Jazelyn stumbled back to the training facility. The next morning, he would call for Workul to bring him to the spaceport and offworld. He had seen enough. He would find Morgan Kell on Arc Royal and seek the answers he needed from the legendary mechwarrior, a solution to the cursed gift that they seemed to share.

And just maybe, what he was supposed to do with his life.

Yayyyy!!! This chapter is finally up! I had been ridiculously busy recently, but I'm not down and out yet! Between organizing missions for the mercs in my 3035 CBT campaign, to graduation, to dealing with the post graduate studies, life has been one long slugfest. I'm beginning to regret taking up a major in the English Language. Sheesh, the amount of work at the teaching institute…

**Neuromancer**: I didn't flunk college(got honours in Chemistry and a double major, actually), but I might still be an author! Now, just waiting for the word from BattleCorps.

**Affi**: Got the hint. Some like it, some don't. In this case, I apologise beforehand for the style. Maybe I'll try something else next time.

**Tangmeister**: The characters in my fics go through shit no other author would ever dream of putting them through! Really serves to humanise them, instead of the uber-godkings we get in CBT. Okay, it's not as if I don't have munchkins in my fics, but at least not all the main characters are munchkins!

**Roastpuff**: You're more than welcome to use my fics as a background for your ideas. In fact, I'm flattered. Good luck!

**Marwynn**: Too busy gaming to write more, eh? And I really enjoy the debates on !

**Eddys**: My motive for being a teacher is rather mundane. It pays well. :P Oh, and the Uziel is produced by the Lyran Commonwealth on Furillo, Defiance Industries.

**Duo**: To tell the truth, I'm tired of reading main characters in super duper mechs. When was the last time a main character in CBT got in a lousy 20 tonner? IIRC, Grayson Death Carlyle in a _Locust_ way back in 3025. _That's it._

**Sphinx**: Frank will drive more reasonable mechs, but only after his migraine gets 'cured'. There's a long story there too…

**Blackemerald**: Real clanners in comp games should be played by maniacs who do nothing but hone their skills in the console. But then, it wouldn't be fun if the average gamer gets beaten to a molten pulp in just 1 minute of action!

**Gunderk**: Victor treats Frank like a pawn. Totally expendable. As for a Mackie, well, Frank might well get to jockey one of the new Mackies coming out for the Word of Blake. See below.

**Werner**: Thanks for the encouragement!

**UnarmedBystander**: Life intervened. Sorry for the delay, but I'm back up now, and gunning!

Now for the Mackie!!!

Type/Model: Mackie MSK-8C

Tech: Inner Sphere / 3070

Config: Biped BattleMech

Rules: Level 2, Standard design

Mass: 100 tons

Chassis: Ford Super H QWA3X Endo Steel

Power Plant: 300 Hermes Fusion

Walking Speed: 32.4 km/h

Maximum Speed: 54.0 km/h

Jump Jets: None

Jump Capacity: 0 meters

Armor Type: StarGuard Excel Standard

Armament:

1 M-7 Gauss Rifle

2 Kinslaughter PPCs

7 Blankenburg Technologies Medium Lasers

1 Improved C³ CPU

Manufacturer: Skobel MechWorks

Location: Terra

Communications System: Superscape Proto with C3i

Targeting & Tracking System: Lightning Zone with Targeting Computer

==Overview:==

"A box with legs" is how one military commander described the Mackie the first

time he saw it. Others saw the Mackie as the future of warfare, and time has

vindicated their judgment. Though the Mackie was first developed in 2439 by

the Terran Hegemony, its existence and that of the Hegemony's entire

BattleMech program was kept secret until 2443, when a lance of Mackies from

the 801st Heavy Armored Regiment destroyed a company of Kurita tanks on the

planet Styx.

The Mackie was the first BattleMech to be mass-produced on Terra, in no less

than six factories. It remained the Hegemony's ultimate weapon until 2455,

when a commando unit from the Lyran Commonwealth stole the plans for

BattleMech construction. The Mackie was produced until the start of the Amaris

Civil War on Terra, and it is believed that General Kerensky took more than

one hundred Mackies with him on his Exodus from the Inner Sphere. Three of

Skobel's Mackie factories on Terra were destroyed in later years.

The other three factories were just recovered by the Word of Blake in Central

Asia on Terra in 3065. The Word of Blake immediately set about upgrading the

lines to produce new Mackies, along with the latest combat technology.

==Capabilities:==

The Word of Blake replaced the old Mackie's inefficient systems with modern

top line systems that were leaps and bounds beyond what it originally had.

New technology has changed the Mackie from an antiquated museum piece to a

staggering juggernaut capable of destroying almost any opposition, even clan

assault mechs.

Armed with a gauss rifle, 2 PPCs, all tied into a C3i network and enhanced by

a targeting computer, the new Mackie can shell out devastating firepower at

long range. A laser battery provides firepower up close.

Deadly at any range, the Mackie is a highly sought after post for Word of

Blake militia pilots.

==Deployment==

Throughout the Jihad, Mackies were often in the forefront of battles,

supplying their deadly and accurate blasts from the rear into the thick of the

action.

Many an unwary mechwarrior had been taken in by the obsolete look of the first

battlemech, only to realize too late that under the old looking armor was a

deadly new design just waiting to pounce.

Type/Model: Mackie MSK-8C

Mass: 100 tons

Equipment: Crits Mass

Int. Struct.: 152 pts Endo Steel 14 5.00

(Endo Steel Loc: 1 HD, 3 LA, 1 LT, 5 RT, 2 LL, 2 RL)

Engine: 300 Fusion 6 19.00

Walking MP: 3

Running MP: 5

Jumping MP: 0

Heat Sinks: 11 Double [22] 0 1.00

Gyro: 4 3.00

Cockpit, Life Supt.: 5 3.00

Actuators: L: ShUALA R: ShUALA 14 .00

Armor Factor: 296 pts Standard 0 18.50

Internal Armor

Structure Value

Head: 3 9

Center Torso: 31 44

Center Torso (Rear): 15

L/R Side Torso: 21 32/32

L/R Side Torso (Rear): 10/10

L/R Arm: 17 32/32

L/R Leg: 21 40/40

Weapons and Equipment Loc Heat Ammo Crits Mass

1 Gauss Rifle RA 1 24 10 18.00

(Ammo Locations: 2 RA, 1 RT)

2 PPCs LA 20 6 14.00

3 Medium Lasers RT 9 3 3.00

2 Medium Lasers LT 6 2 2.00

2 Medium Lasers CT 6 2 2.00

1 Improved C³ CPU RT 0 2 2.50

1 Targeting Computer LT 9 9.00

TOTALS: 42 77 100.00

Crits & Tons Left: 1 .00

Calculated Factors:

Total Cost: 11,882,000 C-Bills

Battle Value: 1,927 (418 for C³)

Cost per BV: 6,166.06

Weapon Value: 2,980 / 2,980 (Ratio = 1.55 / 1.55)

Damage Factors: SRDmg = 33; MRDmg = 28; LRDmg = 16

BattleForce2: MP: 3, Armor/Structure: 7/8

Damage PB/M/L: 5/4/2, Overheat: 4

Class: MA; Point Value: 19

Specials: c3i

Next up is Calderon, as he deals with the Smoke Jaguars. Hmmm… what would Trent think if he knew?


	22. Chapter 22, Calderon

"_Ren Zhai Jiang Hu, Shen Bu You Ji."_

_What the above Chinese saying means is that circumstances often leaves a warrior with no choice at all. I think Ian Calderon is reminded of that every time he looks back on the Landsmark mess._

-Xie Xun

_Galois, Illiushin_

_Taurian_ _Concordat, Periphery_

_8th November 3068_

Ian Calderon ran his gaze over the gathered ranks of Smoke Jaguars in the training field. Greg Kotare stood in front of the assembly, arranged from the youngest to the oldest. And as far as Ian could see, the oldest looked pretty old, with white haired warriors and techs forming a substantial block on his left.

That didn't mean he was about to underestimate them. In the Inner Sphere and Periphery, veterans were prized and highly respected. The clan way of doing things had always seemed weird to him.

He took a deep breath. This was to be a short speech to try to get the former Jaguars settled down. He had written it over the past week on his own, and he hoped to get the Jaguars on his side. If not, at least to the extent that they won't make any trouble.

"Attention." He barked into the microphone set before him on the small stage his retainers had set up. The Jaguars, used to the military style, stiffened in their stances. "At ease. As many of you already know, I am Ian Calderon."

"I bid you welcome to my holdings on Illiushin, and I do hope that you will enjoy your stay here." He resisted the urge to wince at his choice of words, making him sound like a tourist advertisement. However, he did want to make them feel more at ease with their new situation. "I don't wish to rehash the sequence of events that led us all here. What is past is exactly that, the past. I hope everybody here can forget what had happened in the past and focus on the future."

"For starters, you don't have to starve anymore. There's enough food and material here on Illiushin to support you and your children." He would not call them 'sibkos'. "I know us Taurians aren't very rich, but you're part of us now. And as fellow Taurians, you'll receive every bit of help that we can muster to get you back on your feet again."

Ian leaned forward, "I want all of you to take a tour of the Fort. Speak to my people and find out more. I'll talk to your leaders tonight. For those of you who are warriors, stay back for a moment."

"Dismissed."

The gathered ranks slowly dissolved as the confused Jaguar civilians slowly made their way into the fort, guided by more of Ian's retainers.

Ian hopped off the stage to come face with face with Greg Kotare. "Galaxy Commander, please gather your men and get them to the amphitheatre in the Fort."

The Fort was Ian's, given to him as a result of his being a member of the Taurian ruling nobility. It was also the administrative, political, and military centre of his holdings on Illiushin, where he owned the entire continent of Galois. A mid level defensive structure built by the Star League to keep tabs on the rebellious populace of Illiushin on the continent, the Taurians took it over and turned it into an installation not just for defense, but also the governing of the continent. There was another similar but bigger fort on Illiushin for the planetary ruler.

Ten minutes later, Ian stood on a stage beside Greg Kotare. Some members of his staff were on the stage as well, and the warriors who had fought on Landsmark were interspersed amongst the seated Jaguars.

Once he was sure everybody had settled in, Ian asked Kotare, "So, what do you think?"

"Think of what?"

"This." Ian spread his arms to indicate the air-conditioned amphitheatre, the comfortable seats, and the well worn but elegant furnishings of the room. "I've been thinking of what to do with you and your people, and I've come to a decision, but I want to make sure you agree with me."

"Why bother doing that?" Kotare said wearily. "We fought. I lost. You won."

"No, it's never that easy." Ian replied. "What if somebody in the crowd thinks I'm not good enough?" He flicked a thumb at the crowd, "I heard what happens in the clans. Vladimir Ward deposed Elias Crichell by forcing him to prove his qualifications as a warrior. I may be good enough to beat you, but say, maybe an elemental in hand-to-hand? I may be stupid, but I'm not _that_ crazy!" That self deprecating joke made most of the Jaguars grin, and there were even a few barks of laughter.

Ian said seriously, "What I do want to make clear is that you will have a future here. Maybe not the future you always wanted, but a better future than the one that was promised when you were hanging out in space with only two weeks' worth of supplies."

"What about our dream to restore the Star League?" Greg snapped angrily.

"Over and done with. The Star League has been restored…"

"And dissolved again."

Ian shrugged, "And you think you can restore it. Fine, look at the people you have, and tell me if you can beat a Fed Com RCT."

Greg lowered his eyes.

Ian sighed, "Tell me my choices. Honestly."

Somebody said from the seated Jaguars, "You could let us go."

"And wait for you to raid my people again? Or for you to starve when your supplies run out? Convince me these two things won't happen, then maybe I'll consider it."

Nobody had a reply for him. Ian moved closer to his audience. "Maybe you all could tell me. What's my other choice?"

"Keep us as your pet clan." Kotare hissed. "Like those _dezgra_ Nova Cats and Phelan's Wolves."

"And what is so bad about that? They are thriving, and so could you." Ian looked around the amphitheatre. "The purpose for the existence of Clan Smoke Jaguar was the establishment of the Star League. That is a lost cause. To continue along that path lies doom. I'm offering you a different, a better choice."

"We are warriors!" Another Jaguar shouted.

"I didn't say you could not be warriors. But think on it. What sort of warriors would you be if you refuse my offer? Pirates?" He saw them stiffen. "None of you want that, I think."

He held out his hands. "So there. You can walk away from my offer, and return to a life of piracy, no better than the barbarians you so disparaged. Or you could accept my offer, and carve out a new life for your people."

"Do we have time to consider your offer?" Kotare asked.

"Of course." Ian nodded. "You don't have to make a decision now. Get back to me, I'll be around."

* * *

"What will you do next?" Daniela asked him as they walked outside the mech repair bays located outside his barony's fort.

"Sit tight and see what happens." Ian responded. "I'm looking over the reports that Brenda sent me, and it's crazy. The Concordat has troops stuck on Pleiades, more are in semi-revolt over the succession, and Shraplen really wants me dead or dishonoured. You know what the official spin was on Landsmark?"

She shook her head.

"They're claiming I acted without 'due authorization' and that I made a mess of things. The second part may be true enough, but not the first." He resisted the urge to clench his fists. "The longer he keeps this up, the more likely I'm going to do what he most fears."

Daniela tilted her head to one side, considering. "Does that mean you might just accept the offer?"

"No, not yet." He sighed. "I don't know. A part of me is getting more and more angry, but another part of me fears a civil war."

She scoffed. "If the Calderon Protectorate attacks, it will be civil war anyway."

"Yeah…"

The sound of approaching footsteps made them stop, and Ian turned around to see somebody from his past.

"Ian Calderon, as I live and breathe!" The speaker was an old man, his few remaining strands of white hair vainly covering the big bald spot on the top of his head. His shoulders were broad, while his muscular, scarred arms told of a hard life of war. "Good to have you back, laddie!"

"Captain Rogers!" Ian exclaimed, the two men exchanging a fond hug. "Damn, it's good to see you!"

Rogers appraised Ian carefully. "Yup, all grown up now." His eyes flickered over to Daniela. "And who might this gorgeous lady be?"

Ian laughed. "Daniela, meet Captain Toby Rogers, formerly of the Green Mountain Boys. Captain Rogers, Daniela Mattlov, formerly of Clan Jade Falcon."

Rogers raised an eyebrow, grabbed one of Daniela's hands, raised it to his lips and kissed it once. "A clanswoman, eh? If all of your women are as beautiful as you are, my lady, I am sure the Inner Sphere would have surrendered long ago."

Ian grinned, "Still the old charmer, Captain? Unfortunately, she's not impressed." He pointed at Daniela's face, and the former Falcon was wearing a look of confusion.

Toby replied, nonplussed, "I've lost my touch, my boy. Age does that to the best of men."

"I'm not sure you were the best of men to begin with."

"Who is this odious man?" Daniela said with a tinge of distaste.

Ian winced. "Relax, he is an old friend of mine. Without him, I won't be where I am today."

Rogers shook his head. "If I hadn't done what I'd done, the Concordat won't be where it is today."

Daniela asked. "Why? I do not understand."

Sitting on a clean piece of grass, the retired mercenary explained, "Almost twenty years ago, I was Ian's commanding officer in the Green Mountain Boys on Thraxa. He was only 22 years old then, having joined us in 3042 when he was sixteen as an apprentice. We were posted to Thraxa in the Magistracy of Canopus to defend it from the Marian Hegenmony."

Ian continued. "I was already a lance commander, and on my way up. But the Periphery being what it was, and the fact that I was the heir to the Concordat, meant that everything I did was under the media microscope." His eyes were far away as he recalled the memories. "I wanted to make my mark as a warrior, based on what I can do, not who I am. And as long as I was known to be a Calderon, that was impossible."

"So Ian came to me one day and asked for my help. He wanted to disappear, and disappear in such a way that nobody could trace him, so that he could pursue his own destiny." Rogers glanced at Ian. "I sometimes wish I didn't help him escape."

Daniela nodded slowly. "I have read the newscasts. And I did come across mention of the Thraxan incident." She looked at Ian. "You were supposed to be consumed by a Thraxan devourer. Which also explained why there was such a surprise following your return to this nation."

Ian coughed slightly, and shot Rogers a blistering look. "It was his idea, not mine. Being eaten by a Thraxan devourer… Brrr… Give me some credit for not being that stupid."

Rogers retorted indignantly, "There was no other easy way to hide the evidence! Hey, I almost got cashiered for that!"

The two men glared at each other, before Ian laughed, breaking the tension. "Alright, okay. You're correct. It was the simplest and easiest way to spring me. And you know, I never thanked you properly for that. I learnt a lot in these twenty years, things I would have never seen, or experienced, if I had not left."

Rogers placed a hand on Ian's shoulder, his tone serious. "Then if you value anything you have done for me, then you could do me a favour."

"A favour?" Ian narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Did Brenda Calderon put you up to this? I warn you, I've become very wary of promising things. Especially things which I know I can't do."

"No, not Marshal Calderon." Rogers' smiled slightly. "I come on behalf of Marshal Cham Kithrong. He would like to invite you to Cadiz for a meeting. He wants to know where exactly you stand on the political aisle. That's something you can do."

"I'm sitting on the fence. Anywhere else, and people are liable to shoot my butt off."

"And it's not quite comfortable anyway, right? Given who you are, people are still going to shoot at you anyway. You don't have to be a threat. All you need is for people to _think_ you're a threat, and nothing you can do is going to change it." Rogers shrugged. "Besides, if Shraplen knew you were hiding descendents of the Star League Defence Force here, he's going to whip up a blood frenzy and then you know what's gonna happen next. A lot of dying and the Concordat gets even weaker."

"And if I get to Cadiz? What if I give Cham an answer he doesn't like?"

Rogers stiffened. "Ian, I swear to you, on my honour and my loyalty, that regardless of your decision, Marshal Kithrong will ensure safe passage from Cadiz back to Illiushin. I insisted on it, and I can assure you, if he does anything stupid, his support amongst VI Corps will evaporate."

Ian sighed. "Daniela, what do you think?"

The mechwarrior tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Captain Rogers is correct. Sharplen probably wants you dead anyway. And since this Marshal Kithrong has promised you safe passage, you might as well meet up with him to see what he wants. Perhaps he has crucial information that may influence your decision."

Ian already knew that, but he was still wrestling with the decision. If it was up to him, he would leave right away for Outreach, away from the crazy political maneuvering going on around him and to the much more direct action of the Chaos March.

But then, there were the Smoke Jaguars. He could not leave them on Illiushin, unattended and with their leadership still uncommitted. So by default, he had no choice but to play out the political games as best as he could until the Smoke Jaguars could somehow leave for a safer place, and he could go to Outreach with a clear conscience. Although that was getting more and more difficult.

Added to that was the problem of Milton Hawkings. If Hawkings' properties got seized by Shraplen in the event of a civil war, that would mean a severe setback in the Mercs in Black's guaranteed supply line.

In other words, he had no choice, really. He sighed for the umpteenth time, and said, "Okay, Rogers, I'll see Kithrong. How long will it take?"

"Just a month to get to Cadiz. You'll be back latest by February next year."

* * *

"Galaxy Commander, I did not expect you so soon." Ian looked up in his office where he had been working out a way to support the Smoke Jaguars with Illiushin's production. He rubbed his bleary eyes, wishing there was some easy way to work out the logistics.

Greg Kotare snapped to attention as though on the parade ground. "Sir, we have discussed your offer…"

"And?" Ian raised an eyebrow. He really had not expected a reply this quickly. He had half expected the Jaguars to drag out their reply just long enough to stock up on supplies before lifting off Illiushin and going off on their own again.

"The warriors of the clan have agreed to accept your offer of a garrison posting here." Kotare said stiffly. "We would also like to make our status here as clear as possible."

Ian agreed. "I know. You've read the documents I've sent you?"

"Aff."

"So tell me what you understand by your current situation."

"We are not mercenaries." The clansman said stiffly. "As a result, we do not fight for pay, and are not posted here for _monetary_ gain." The word was said with severe loathing. "We are posted here because you, as our…"

"Owner," supplied Ian.

"Aff. You own us, and our loyalty, so we are here to protect your holdings against those who would threaten it."

"Excellent. I know you will not accept any money, but everything else is, I hope, on the level?"

"Aff," Greg confirmed, "We can accept foodstuffs and material aid. Just not money."

Frankly speaking, Ian could not tell the difference, but if it was what it took for the expatriate Smoke Jaguars to settle in, well then, what was there to argue about, especially if it worked?

"This is no cakewalk garrison, Galaxy Commander." Ian warned. He pressed a button on his desk, and a holographic projection of Illiushin and the surrounding star systems sprang up before them. Illiushin appeared as a bright red star, and to the two mechwarriors' experienced eyes, hung relatively far away from nearby inhabited star systems. While still close to the Hyades cluster worlds on one side, the other side past Camadeirre was awfully empty.

"As you can see, any support would have to come from the Hyades cluster, and current Taurian strategic doctrine states specifically that forces in the Hyades cluster cannot be released for duty outside the cluster unless authorized by the Protector himself."

Greg stared. "I do not understand."

Ian smiled mirthlessly. "Let's just say I'm not on the Protector's list of favorite people. He would not be sending any forces here unless they make it clear that they're invading. You're aware of the facilities here?"

"Aff. You have mech production plants for the _Stinger_, _Commando_, and _Griffin_, as well planet-based and orbital facilities for constructing _Union_-class dropships." All of which made Illiushin an extremely tempting target for raiders.

Ian knew the score. The _Union_ dropship manufacturers would construct a new dropship approximately every 6 weeks, after which the dropship would stay at the starport for two more weeks for final preparations for its first lift, or even longer if suitable interstellar transportation was unavailable. This time period would often be a prime opportunity for raiders to attack and possibly seize the dropship for themselves. The most critical juncture would be the first week, before the weapons modules on the dropship are completely zeroed and primed.

To make it worse, any losses due to raiding often came out of the local noble's pocket. In this case, that was Ian's.

"Don't be fooled by the expanse of space around Illiushin. Raiders don't mind jumping through uninhabited systems to get a piece of the booty here." Ian tapped another button, and a list of dates appeared alongside Illiushin. "This place has been raided six times in the past ten years. Four of those times, they managed to make off with a dropship and some mechs." With another button, the projection changed again, zooming in to show a close-up of the planet, slowly rotating in space. Bright symbols covered the planet, representing important facilities and structures.

"The 1st Taurian Lancers are supposed to be the standard garrison here, but with all the trouble the Concordat is having in the Pleiades cluster, they've been called closer to the Hyades cluster. Which leaves this place awfully bare. I planned to raise two more battalions of mechanized infantry to fight off pirates, but now I have a better option."

"Us."

"Yes." Ian grinned. "As a matter of fact, with your three clusters of troops and a warship, I doubt anybody will be crazy enough to try hitting this place." He stood up, and offered a hand to Kotare, who shook it firmly. "I'll settle everything with the Concordat. For all intents and purposes, you're stationed as the garrison for this place. You'd better bring your troops up to cohesive levels of performance, and proper training for your cadets."

"Sibkos." Kotare corrected.

Ian insisted, "Cadets. Anyway, use the time wisely. You know what you need to do, you don't need me to tell you."

Kotare was not stupid. "You think something is going to happen. Which is why you want us to be fully prepared."

He wondered if he should mention the current political morass to the clanner, and how three clusters of troops made such a difference in the periphery, then decided it was all irrelevant. "Perhaps. I'd be leaving for a meeting, and I'll be back around February next year." Ian glared at Greg Kotare. "When I get back, I expect to be pleasantly surprised."

Kotare smiled, looking very much like the namesake of his clan even as it was clear all the gears were spinning in his brain. "Oh, trust me, you will be."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm back! After such a long hiatus, I've finally gotten back in the saddle. I won't explain why I was inactive for so long, save to say that the working life puts a real crimp on leisure time, especially in a new job.

Anyway, I'll be updating quite quickly, I hope. The stories are bubbling up from my mind again…

Here's a new mech. Sorry for the classified sections, I can't give too much away, after all!

Type/Model: Geryon

Tech: Clan / 3070

Config: Biped BattleMech

Rules: Level 2, Standard design

Mass: 55 tons

Chassis: Endo Steel

Power Plant: 165 Fusion

Walking Speed: 32.4 km/h

Maximum Speed: 54.0 km/h

Jump Jets: 3 Standard Jump Jets

Jump Capacity: 90 meters

Armor Type: Ferro-Fibrous

Armament:

1 ER PPC

2 LRM 15s

4 Medium Pulse Lasers

3 SRM 4s

Manufacturer: (Unknown)

Location: (Unknown)

Communications System: (Unknown)

Targeting & Tracking System: (Unknown)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Overview:

One of the most interesting developments in mech design in recent years

stemmed from a research paper written by an obscure military historian and

scientist at the NAIS.

The scientist was doing research on World War II machines, and one interesting

vehicle that was used during the war was the 'pocket battleship'.

Smaller than actual battleships, pocket battleships managed to pack the

firepower of a battleship into their structures anyway, at the expense of

speed and protection. Later classified as armored cruisers, they provided a

fascinating look at the development of combat technology.

The scientist thought about it for several days, before coming to the

conclusion that mechs could also, theoretically, utilize the same concept.

Castigated and derided for his theory, the scientist nonetheless was

determined to prove the worth of his ideas. He travelled from one end of the

Inner Sphere to the other, distributing his papers to industrial concerns and

military suppliers.

It is now known that the Word of Blake picked up on his ideas, culminating in

the Bacchus design for the pirates of the Periphery. The Magistracy of Canopus

also conceptualized it in their Basilisk defense mech.

(Classified)

Capabilities:

Like its fellow pocket assault mech brethren, the Geryon sacrifices ground

speed for a hard hitting array of weapons. It has firepower exceeding many

clan heavies, and the newest combat records show that it matches up well

against even assault-class clan machines.

With maximum armor protection, the Geryon is also equipped with jump jets to

achieve the optimal firing position for its long range weaponry.

During the design phase, the (Classified) engineers debated long and hard

about the weapons. One group argued strongly for the inclusion of a dual gauss

rifle configuration, backed up with lasers for the ability to inflict

consistent damage at long range, with the damage curve increasing at shorter

ranges. A smaller group argued for a mix of hard hitting energy array coupled

with short and long range missiles to match up with any opponent.

Both suggested loadouts were tested against a variety of opposition, and

surprisingly, the all or nothing damage potential of the gauss rifle

configuration was actually inferior to the more consistent damage spreads of

the alternative configuration. More importantly, the missile packs enable the

Geryon to consistently pick out weak points in enemy armor to damage critical

systems.

Battle History:

(Classified)

Deployment

The (Classified) production facility on (Classified) has been manufacturing about

ten Geryons per month since it started operations. Most of these extremely

economical mechs have been sent to every cluster in the rebuilding (Classified)

touman, and some clusters have two stars.

No other clan fields the Geryon as the design concept is too drastic a change

from contemporary clan combat philosophy, which emphasizes speed, firepower,

and flexibility.

--------------------------------------------------------

Type/Model: Geryon

Mass: 55 tons

Equipment: Crits Mass

Int. Struct.: 91 pts Endo Steel 7 3.00

(Endo Steel Loc: 4 LA, 3 RA)

Engine: 165 Fusion 6 6.00

Walking MP: 3

Running MP: 5

Jumping MP: 3

Heat Sinks: 12 Double [24 12 2.00

(Heat Sink Loc: 3 LT, 1 RT, 1 LL, 1 RL)

Gyro: 4 2.00

Cockpit, Life Supt., Sensors: 5 3.00

Actuators: L: Sh+UA+LA+H R: Sh+UA+LA+H 16 .00

Armor Factor: 182 pts Ferro-Fibrous 7 9.50

(Armor Crit Loc: 1 HD, 2 LA, 2 RA, 1 RT, 1 CT)

Internal Armor

Structure Value

Head: 3 9

Center Torso: 18 25

Center Torso (Rear): 8

L/R Side Torso: 13 20/20

L/R Side Torso (Rear): 6/6

L/R Arm: 9 18/18

L/R Leg: 13 26/26

Weapons and Equipment Loc Heat Ammo Crits Mass

--------------------------------------------------------

1 ER PPC LT 15 2 6.00

1 LRM 15 RA 5 24 5 6.50

(Ammo Locations: 1 LT, 2 RT)

1 LRM 15 LA 5 2 3.50

2 Medium Pulse Lasers RT 8 2 4.00

2 Medium Pulse Lasers LT 8 2 4.00

3 SRM 4s RT 9 25 4 4.00

(Ammo Locations: 1 RT)

3 Standard Jump Jets: 3 1.50

(Jump Jet Loc: 1 LT, 1 RT, 1 CT)

--------------------------------------------------------

TOTALS: 50 77 55.00

Crits & Tons Left: 1 .00

Calculated Factors:

Total Cost: 5,385,940 C-Bills

Battle Value 2: 2,230 (old BV 1,855)

Cost per BV2: 2,415.22

Weapon Value: 1,959 / 1,959 (Ratio .88 / .88)

Damage Factors: SRDmg 35; MRDmg 26; LRDmg 14

BattleForce2: MP: 3J, Armor/Structure: 5/5

Damage PB/M/L: 4/4/2, Overheat: 4

Class: MM; Point Value: 22

Specials: if


	23. Chapter 23, Meronac

_Speed, give me what I need_

_Yeah, white lightning_

_Let's speed, on speed_

_On wheels, on wheels_

_Speed, oh, let it bleed_

_Yeah, greased lightning_

_Let's speed, on speed_

_On wheels, on wheels_

-_Speed_, Billy Idol

_New York, Terra_

_Chaos March_

_6th December 3068_

New York, the Big Apple. The Statue of Liberty, restored. Countless monuments and museums scattered around the historical city. Even in the 31st century, New York had not lost much of its allure, and acted as a centre of trading and commerce. The famed Madison Square Garden still stood, featuring sporting spectacles almost daily. Broadway was more quiescent, showing mostly 'safe' dramas that the Word of Blake had deemed suitable for consumption by the masses.

Frank shivered a bit in the cold under the bright neon lights, the gaudy decorations for Christmas seemingly incongruous with the image of the city under the staid control of the religious Word of Blake. Curiously, the word 'Christmas' was completely absent, and Frank remembered walking by a group of schoolchildren and hearing them talk about some celebration of Gifts Day. It had taken him a moment to realise they were talking about Christmas. Renamed and sanitized of any religious connotations that might conflict with the 'Blessed Word'.

_Take away their culture, their holidays, and BAM! You have them for life._ Frank was pretty sure the Blakists knew what they were doing. Brainwashing an entire generation with their beliefs. Taking away the truth of their past, replacing it with their own twisted version._Down the memory hole… Calling it Blakemas would have been a real laugher, though._

He leaned nonchalantly against the building, his eyes slowly scanning the nearby non-descript corporate office for any changes. It was night, and most people were of from work, and generally relaxing, roaming the streets window shopping in the city's commercial areas, or staying at home watching holovids.

After their raid in South America, the rebels had two good leads, which they hoped would reveal the Word of Blake's real plans. Since they were unable to amass enough physical resources to push off the Blakists, the next best option would be to ferret out its secrets, and use those secrets against the Wobblies, if possible.

One of the leads was codenamed _Vampire_, and seemed to be closely related to the stealth technology _Exterminator_ they found. It was located at a research facility at Salinas. The other lead was codenamed _Blaze_, and was located in a small hidden office in New York, of all places.

They had no idea what the _Blaze_ project was about, except that it probably wasn't about Battlemechs. The cover of the urban environs meant that any attempt to find out what _Blaze_ was had the best chance of succeeding, despite the many attendant complications that came with a covert operation that would likely get blown in the process.

For this reason, they had brought over nearly the entire team involved with the prison break in California. James Taffel had decided that nothing, not even the lives of his best operatives, was more important than getting to the truth of what the Blakists were doing with their numerous research programs all over Terra.

"How are you doing?" Frank turned slowly to look at Taffel, who had walked up beside him.

"Fine. My migraine quota for the day is filled anyway." Frank winced a bit, recalling the intense pressure in the morning, just after breakfast. So far, nothing he had tried had worked. He had concocted his own cocktails of COX inhibitors and morphines, but nothing seemed to work. He was thinking of just hooking himself up to a controlled current and seeing if electrical shocks could get rid of the migraines, but lack of equipment and the dubious looks at his suggestion put paid to that crazy idea.

Taffek looked over him critically. "Our people are already positioned. William, you up for it?"

"Hell yeah. I still owe them plenty." Frank felt his fingers twitch at the memories of his imprisonment. "Can't wait to shoot some Wobblies."

Taffel nodded. The plan was simple, or as simple as they dared to get. A fuel tanker would crash into the building, and spill its contents all over the street. The rebels, in the guise of local emergency services, would move in and infiltrate the building, picking up any data cores and software packages they found, before pulling out and dispersing throughout the city. They had obtained the building plans from the city database, but Taffel cautioned them against relying on it too much; if it really was a covert Word of Blake research centre, odds were high that the building's design would be different from the plans.

In short, they were striking into the unknown. They had no idea what sort of guards were present, what security systems were in place, or how soon Word of Blake reinforcements would arrive. All they knew was that the building was 100 a Word of Blake research facility for something called _Blaze_, and that was that.

High risks, definitely, but with potentially high rewards.

Taffel looked at his watch. "Time's almost up. Get to your position."

Frank nodded, walking into a nearby alley and climbing into the back of an emergency ambulance. Several more people joined him, all of them picking up weapons and double checking their condition. He pulled on a black ablative/flak concealable vest, followed by the red and white coveralls of the city's emergency services. There was no need for stealth suits because they did not intend to stick around that long.

"All right," his team leader, a man named Squarez, said, in a Mexican accent. "We do this nice and fast. All of you have dataports ready to jack in and obtain data." He stopped, and realized he wasn't saying anything they don't already know. "Be ready in," he looked at his wrist-chrono, "4 minutes."

For Frank, the next few minutes passed by in complete silence, as they waited in terse anticipation for the battle to come. James Taffel was convinced there would be a fight. No Word of Blake installation would ever be devoid of security forces. The issue at hand was, how tough were the guards, and how many of them there were?

Frank did not know he was about to have one of the longest nights of his life.

* * *

Precentor Lane Brandenburg-Curi grimaced with distaste at the men flanking him. They were all members from the extreme Sixth of June sub-faction of the Toyama sect. It almost did not matter that they were all members of the Word of Blake, dedicated to Jerome Blake's vision. 

Because even so many years after their founding, they could not even agree on what Blake's vision was.

Brandenburg-Curi was a True Believer, one of the highest ranking after Precentor William Blane. After the battle in South America, he had reason to believe that there would be an attack on one of their research facilities, notably the cleverly hidden New York center. After reporting to Precentor Martial St. Jamais, his superior had quietly 'recommended' to his command several of his Toyama elite, specifically the Sixth of June special operatives.

There was just six of them, but St. Jamais had been supremely confident in their abilities. Lane had heard whispers from his own troops about the Sixth of June, and the Manei Domini, who were supposed to be their elite of the elite, enhanced with cybernetic and myomer implants.

_I can certainly see why_, Lane thought to himself. Three of the Manei Domini operatives with him are Delta Banshees, two are Alpha Ghosts, and finally one who refused to identify his role, except for the gleaming sickly yellow Psi symbol on one shoulder.

In the Word of Blake, Psi-designated personnel are ROM, in charge of spiritual enlightenment. Brandenburg-Curi wondered how this particular Manei Domini would contribute to the upcoming fight he was sure was coming, but the other five seemed to defer automatically to the Psi.

"What plans do you have for apprehending the rebels?" Lane asked.

The Psi turned to him, "They will fall easily. You need not concern yourself. In fact," pale eyes stared right through him, "You do not even need to be here."

It was said as a suggestion, but the Precentor felt a… something pressing against his mind. Before he could react, it was gone.

"We should clear the databases. Prevent them from getting anything important."

The Psi waved it off. "It will set our efforts here back. Do not worry, the data will be safe."

Lane wondered privately if the Psi was really as confident as he seemed to be, but guessed that he owed the Precentor Martial the benefit of the doubt. Furthermore, the facility's research project, the Blaze, was not that critical to the Word of Blake's military program, and was more of a blue-sky technology to push the boundaries of extra-light fusion engine parameters and hovercraft design.

They exited the corridor and entered a room where dozens of scientists and engineers are working, poring over data and busy hammering at their keyboards. The Psi said, "Once the rebels hit, evacuate all the personnel. We will do the rest."

He nodded. Now, if only the rebels will strike, and if ROM's intel on rebel movements was correct, they would be attacking that very night.

Then there was a very loud crash above the research office, and suddenly Lane wished ROM was not so correct after all.

* * *

The raid proceeded on schedule. The fuel tanker seemingly lost control while making a hard turn, and crashed into the building, making a nice convenient hole in one wall in the process. 

Liquid spilled from the fuel tank, but it was only water mixed with some jelly to make it viscous and seem as though it was oil. The lack of the tell-tale smell of spilled petrol was a dead giveaway, but the raiders hoped the pedestrians would not notice, in the midst of the confusion and chaos engendered by the 'accident'.

"We're on." Squarez reported from the driver's seat as he sent the van moving from the alley towards the building. People were already running away from the scene of the accident, due to the likelihood of the fuel exploding. Which left the scene free of civilians for what they were going to do.

Frank flipped on a communications headset retrofitted with night-vision goggles. Every rebel raider had been equipped with digital codebreakers and data siphons, to extract as much information from the facility as possible. The codebreakers had already been configured by their resident hacker, Hierro 'Rod' Rodriguez, so all they needed to do was to find the nearest dataport and jack in the device.

As for personal weapons, they were all armed with melee and weapons designed for close-in work in the tight confines of the building. Frank had armed himself with a simple sword for close fighting and an automatic shotgun with plenty of spare magazines, along with a hold-out needler as a weapon of last resort. All the weapons were hidden under the medic's coveralls he was wearing, while the advanced medical kit he carried was also stuffed with additional codebreakers, spare data chips, and a more powerful ultrasonic detector.

The van veered to a stop beside the hole in the wall, where the fuel tanker laid on one beast like a wounded beast, the driver of the tanker stumbling dazedly into the hole in the wall.

The raiders quickly filed out of the door. Frank noted that the civilians had almost all disappeared from the immediate vicinity, and most were peeking at the accident site from a safe distance. To any observer, his team of raiders would seem like a group of paramedics who'd arrived right on time. About thirty meters away, a large firetruck, also under the control of the rebels, as well as a police van, had pulled up, and additional rebels clad in the appropriate disguises were running towards the hole.

Squarez was already running into the hole, and Frank turned to follow suit. "Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more…"

The first rebel into the hole was the tanker driver, who quickly found the building's electrical grid near a set of lifts behind the 1st floor reception area. It did not take him long to hack the grid and sabotage the wires for the main lights. There was something else, too…

"All squads, Front here. They've backup generators for their workstations and servers."

Taffel's voice came in next, even as Frank and his team gathered near the lifts. "Cut everything."

"Roger."

The entire building plunged into darkness Frank stepped through the hole, with only the dim emergency lights providing some amount of illumination. He quickly glanced at both sides. Two security guards laid motionless about ten meters to his right, the night vision goggles showing them as two heaps on the ground, obviously taken out by Front, the fuel tanker driver.

If everything went as planned they should be in and out within 15 minutes, before the _real_ local emergency services arrived. Rod had hacked into the city's emergency net, and was quickly signing off all calls to their location as having been responded to. Sooner or later, however, somebody was bound to notice.

"C'mon, let's go." Squarez motioned to his team, with every team of rebels holding an ultrasonic detector. These devices were capable of using high frequency soundwaves that can pass and echo through barriers to detect empty spaces beyond walls and other objects that block visual sight. These particular devices were extremely rare, as they are produced only by a few specialized groups in Comstar and the Word of Blake. The very detectors they were using had been appropriated from Word of Blake espionage teams.

For all its advanced technology, the ultrasonic detector only had a range of 10 meters. Frank's team held the only improved prototype version that their own scientists had been working on, which improved the range to a whopping 15 meters. It was also a lot heavier, and had a voracious power appetite.

They advanced slowly, with Frank directing the device down at the floor. They were very sure from their scans and careful surveillance of the building from opposite blocks that the upper floors did not contain any secretive Word of Blake activity, and was only a normal collection center for data packages to be sent to one of Terra's many re-directing HPG stations. Which meant that any super secret project was probably conducted below the building. There was no basement car park, so the first floor was in fact the lowest floor.

Two minutes in, Frank got something. "Hold up, I think I've got something." He waited, holding the detector steady while the visual display solidified blurry lines into more coherent ones. "Got it. There _is_ a basement. It's twelve meters down." Which meant that the original ultrasonic detectors would have missed it.

Yes, they had confirmed the existence of a basement. Problem now was, how were they going to get down to it?

"Uh, guys?" Bill, a member of Team 3, suddenly spoke up over the communications net. "The lift just opened in front of me. And there's a B1 displayed on its destination level. There's also an additional keypad that allows access to the basement."

Frank exchanged glances with Squarez. He shrugged. The tanker crash and shutdown of the electrical system might have done something to the local systems. They were not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The nearest team quickly gathered in the lift, which was big enough to easily accommodate all six members of a team, and armed their smoke grenades, doffing gas masks as they tossed one of the grenades into the lift. All of them then crouched down. That was the best they could do, since there was no other way to defend against an attack directed into a lift.

Thankfully, the lift doors opened, not to a hail of fire which Frank half-expected, but simply… nothing. They rolled some more smoke grenades out to cover their exit, then dashed out, taking up firing positions and sending the lift back up for the others.

Frank's team was the second team down. He found his fingers twitching nervously, no matter how hard he tried to calm himself. The tension of the entire operation was getting to him. Sweat beaded down his face. He looked at the rest of his team. Even under the low-light amplification, they all looked the same, pale and withdrawn.

They left the lift, quickly moving to occupy the spots taken up by the first team on the scene, while the forward rebels quickly moved forward to the nearest doors on either side of the long corridor they found themselves in. Reinforced glass doors were present on either side, locked by security keypads. There were a total of four glass doors, through which they could see numerous workstations and desks, even with the night vision goggles.

They quickly set their electronic codebreakers to the keypads, letting the numbers run while they waited for the other teams to arrive. The digital glare from the displays was the only hint of light in the pitch-black corridor.

Each end of the corridor was a dead end. Each team took up positions near one glass door, waiting for the electronic codebreaker to complete its work and for the doors to open.

One codebreaker chimed, lights turning from red to green, and the glass door slid open. The team that had assigned itself to the door prepared to enter, the two rebels nearest the door staying in a combat crouch with their guns ready while two of their teammates moved up in a classic leap-frog.

They never made it.

The first rebel to make it to the door suddenly jerked back with a scream. He doubled over, backing into the rebel behind him. Even with the relatively poor visibility through the night vision goggles, it was possible to see the thin piece of metal protruding through the man.

The rebel behind him stumbled to the ground even as all the rebels swung their weapons over to cover the new threat. It was a mistake by amateurs.

Two more of the glass doors exploded outwards, and before the nearest rebels could turn back to confront whoever was coming through, they were taken down by extremely rapid shots to the head.

Red laser sighting beams accompanied by automatic gunfire pierced the darkness, while a horrific laughter erupted in the corridor. There was no way to coordinate a defense over the din, and Frank could feel horror seeping into his very bones. He froze in place, while monstrous figures appeared from the smoke and dark, wreathed in heavy ballistic armor, laser sighting beams strobing forth from their eyes, pausing every few moments to pour more gunfire into the reeling rebels. Despite their bulk, they were _fast_, to a degree Frank found unimaginable. The rebels fired back, but their weapons did not seem to have any effect, ricocheting off the enemies' armor.

Two rebels tried to access the lift that brought them down, but the lift door refused to open. _Figures_, Frank thought. _Stuck like rats in a cage. A cage of fire, ringed by unstoppable monsters._

A hand grabbed his shoulder. "Follow me!" James Taffel shouted. The final glass door had opened, and the remaining rebels, about ten of them, rushed through in a near-panic.

One rebel was hit in the leg as he was crawling towards the door. Frank grabbed one arm and pulled the whimpering man towards relatively safety. Three more rebels covered the door with their guns. Even as powerful as the ambushers were, even they were not so confident as to go through the narrow door without using smoke or stun grenades first. The laughter died out, and a deadly calm settled over the place.

Inside the office, Frank Taffel and some of the other rebels quickly got to work, taking out their data chips and slotting them into the ports. The dull glow from the small LED on the chips flashed green, indicating that data was being transferred.

While waiting, Frank concentrated on staunching and patching up the rebel who was hit in the leg. One nagging thought pulled at him. Why didn't the ambushers corner them completely? Why leave an out? Even if they could get the data, how are they going to get out? He had a feeling of being herded. It was a sensation he did not like at all.

_One thing at a time_, Frank told himself, even as he finished bandaging the wound on the rebel's leg. "The bullet went through your flesh, but missed the bone. You'll be able to walk, but not run or put any real weight on it."

"Thanks. At least enough to reposition myself, eh?" The rebel nodded grimly.

Meanwhile, the other rebels, other than the three nervously covering the door through which they came, slowly moved through the room to secure it. They also had a secondary purpose, to find another way out.

Surveillance on the building showed that the only workers who went into the building through the normal exits accounted for almost all of the occupants of the upper floors. That meant those in the secret facility went in via another route.

Right now, their survival depended on finding that alternative entrance/exit.

A soft_pfffttt_ was the only hint of the next attack. One rebel went down, a barely visible tiny dart sticking out from her throat. She was dead before her head hit the floor.

"Sniper!" Frank hissed. There was no tell-tale strobing laser beam this time. The attack had been so sudden that none of them could even tell the direction of the attack.

They all flattened themselves on the ground or crouched against desk shelves and workstations, anxiously peeking up from under tables and chairs for their attacker. For all they knew, there could be more than one.

"How much longer?" Frank heard somebody ask.

"The data chips all read 70 to completion. Probably another minute and a half." Another minute and a half, and they might be dead if somebody didn't do something soon.

Frank closed his eyes, and tried to focus. _The room is about twenty meters by thirty. There's the glass door in the middle of the shorter wall. We're kinda near the door. That rules out the sniper being near the door. He's probably on the far side of the room._

The problem was, how to locate the sniper?

Frank leopard-crawled for a few meters, then pulled out a stun grenade and a magnesium flare. He motioned for two of the rebels near him to pull out their own magnesium flares. Then he lifted up his NVGs.

_Right now, we're at a disadvantage because we can't see as well in the dark as whoever is shooting at us. Might as well light it up._

He pulled the pin on the stun grenade, released the lever, and squeezed his eyes tight for 3 seconds, before throwing it up in a slow parabolic arc that would make it stay in the air for as long as possible. Hopefully, that would draw the attention of any snipers, while Frank initiated the second phase of his plan.

With his eyes still shut, he quickly popped the magnesium flare, flinging it in the general direction of the far end of the room, even as there was a sudden bang from the explosion of the flash. The other two rebels did likewise, in different directions.

Then he opened his eyes, and quickly stood up. The stun grenade gave them at least 5 seconds to locate the sniper before his eyes readjusted themselves to the pitch darkness.

There! About 4 meters away from the landing position of the flare he had thrown. A figure in a black sneak suit, crouching against the wall. The black suit itself was already turning the same color as the walls, a sign that it was one of the rare camo suits that could change its coloration to suit its surroundings.

Frank felt a sense of exultation sweep through him, as he quickly fired on the sniper, who quickly stumbled away behind a workstation even as his shotgun blasts punched numerous holes in the wall behind the space the sniper had just vacated.

The two rebels who had helped him quickly moved to the right, seeking to flank the sniper and pin him down before they finished him off. Three more moved to support Frank's position. With the three already covering the glass door though which they came in, that left Precentor Taffel with the data chips. By his own estimates, it'd still be another minute before the download was complete for any of the chips.

One of them went down after moving five meters ahead, caught by enfilade fire from a Blakist agent in a point somewhere in front of Frank, covered by another workstation. The rebel went down, his body armor cut to shreds by the flechettes of a heavy needler rifle, blood spraying from the numerous wounds opened up by the vicious thin plastic slivers.

"It's complete!" Taffel reported,

At that very moment, an opening appeared in the far side of the room, opposite the glass door. A single figure strode through, uncaring of the vicious firefight erupting. In that instant, all gunfire stopped.

Frank grimaced, another enemy to kill, but just as he was about to raise his gun, there was an abrupt… pressure in his head.

As a doctor, he had read about out-of-body experiences. On Einstein, he had also learnt about the existence of psi, but until now, he assumed the only real application that utilized them were the key machines they had used to open up the alien base. Everything else was blue sky stuff, because he thought nobody was able to figure it out anyway.

It was a reasonable assumption. It was also a mistake.

All the rebels fell to the floor, unable to move, their minds on fire, as the newcomer simply stood there, his black hood obscuring the cybernetic implants on his head, bulging out from his templates. He began to laugh, the same mocking laughter they had heard in the corridor. Two rebels collapsed to the floor as he laughed, blood seeping out from their nose and ears.

Frank felt pain, but it was not the same level of pain as the migraines, and he found himself still capable of thinking, of moving. He embraced the pain, his mouth open in a soundless roar. The other two snipers had moved out into the open, apparently confident that their compatriot had effectively disabled all the rebels.

It was the only real mistake the Word of Blake made all night.

Frank whipped his shotgun up, his finger already on the trigger as his teeth pulled back in a snarl of rage. The psi-manipulator stopped laughing, and the two snipers raised their own weapons hurriedly in response. They were the most immediate threat, so he shot at them, while the psi-manipulator, as he had tagged the guy, retreated behind a row of cupboards.

He hit one of the snipers in the hip, damaging the camo suit and sending the Blakist operative sliding to the floor. The other sniper took an entire salvo of buckshot to the chest, but _still kept on coming!_

Frank had only enough time to draw his sword and punch the blade through the man's right arm before sudden light exploded in his head.

* * *

He was intrigued. Yes, intrigued was the correct word. Since receiving the new implants, just a week ago, as a reward for his faithful service to the Master, he had tested his new, amazing implants on all sorts of targets. Stubborn servants of the heretic Focht, hardened agents of Wolfnet, highly-trained operatives from the various intelligence agencies of the Great Houses. Not one had the ability to control their bodies in his presence unless he _allowed_ it. The exceptions came from O5P adepts; their training methods somehow gave them greater mental resistance. 

On his own, he could put their minds into excruciating pain, prevent them from moving. He could, with enough power backing him up, pull memories and information out of his targets. With a reactor providing support for his implants, he could literally rewrite minds to the benefit of Blake's Blessed Word.

In his own mind, he could picture the minds of his targets as books, where he could erase entire pages and fill them with his own. Their feeble mental defenses were like a _Rifleman's_ paper thin rear armor, requiring not much effort for him to incapacitate them, or employ his other more 'evolved' abilities.

But this rebel was different, even before he managed to shoot back. His 'mind shield' was somewhat thicker, but he had thought nothing of it.

Now that the rebel was shooting back, he took cover, and probed a little deeper. He could incapacitate targets by imagining in the metaphysical world a huge weight on their psyches, preventing them from getting off the ground at all. For the exceptional rebel, instead of a relatively flat psyche, there was a huge knot in the middle, which effectively prevented the huge weight from being completely effective.

The solution was simple. Rather than waste time disentangling the knot, he simply borrowed a page from Alexander the Great, and imagined a swift sword slicing away the knot.

The rebel shrieked.

* * *

Even during the worst of his migraines, Frank had never felt like this. Oh, to be sure, it was so painful he could not even think. But this_stabbing pain_… 

Then it was gone. He exchanged surprised glances with the cybernetic enemy. His mind felt clear, there was no trace of mental attack, save for a slight pressure that he found he could push back rather easily. He grinned, and dashed forward.

The stabbed sniper whipped out with a leg, tripping Frank to the ground. Frank rolled to a stop, and when he came up again, the psi-user was already gone.

That still left the two snipers, and they scooted off in the direction of the glass doors, their guns barking as they cut down the other rebels, most of whom were already unconscious on the floor from the psychic assault.

Frank saw red, and he was about to go after them when one of the hulking monstrosities that had ambushed them in the corridor walked through the open glass door. And they were coming on fast.

"Horry…" Taffel groaned from his left. The Precentor was holding several of the data chips.

Making a quick decision, Frank quickly sheathed his sword, and dragged the almost unconscious rebel leader across the floor to the opening where the psi-user had appeared. He looked around frantically for a switch to close the door, and managed to find it just as the first brute reached it.

The door closed with a metallic clang, and he secured it with several locking bars. He sighed with relief. He took a quick moment to observe his new surroundings. Another dark corridor, but this time one end was clearly a cul-de-sac, while the other led off into the deep darkness. The corridor itself was dimly lit with red lights.

Just then, a tremendous boom burst from the door. Frank turned in amazement to look at the bulge in the metallic security door. There was another loud boom, and the bulge grew bigger. _Those brutes were actually breaking down the door! This is like a bad horror movie… What the heck are we dealing with?_

"Those are Manei Domini, our elite."

Frank drew his sword, feeling foolish as he did so, knowing that it was no defense against a ranged weapon. A man in his late middle ages appeared from the gloom, a laser pistol in his right hand. He wore the robes of a Word of Blake, and his rank insignia was that of a Precentor.

The Blakist said, regret in his voice, "We never expected you to get this far. No matter. There is no escape. Give up now, and you can expect a quick execution."

"Lane…" James Taffel wheezed, levering himself up on one arm. "Never thought you'll be the type to get down and dirty…"

"James, give it up. You can't win. Come over to us, and I'll put in a good word for you. You saved my life on Tukayyid. We need good men, commanders, and few are better than you."

Taffel shook his head. "I refused then, and I refuse now. Dammit, Lane, open your eyes! You're being fooled by the radicals!"

"They're only a small fraction of the Order. And all shall have their place, when the time comes for Blake's Vision to be fulfilled."

The rebel leader laughed. "You still subscribe to that crap?" His eyes narrowed. "You may well fulfill Blake's vision, but it'll be in fire, steel, and the blood of the innocent."

"We do not wage war on the innocent…"

"I heard what happened at Sandhurst, so you're either a liar or a fool. And you were always an honest man." James slowly got up to his feet, one hand holding the pouch of data chips, the precious information they had sacrificed so many to get. "And you know what? I don't regret saving your life."

"Why?"

"Because if it had been anybody else pointing a gun at us, I wouldn't have time to do this." Taffel suddenly dashed forward, and Lane instinctively squeezed his pistol, the beam punching a hole through the vest and Taffel's stomach.

The wounded man tackled the Blakist to the ground, at the same time sliding the pouch of chips towards Frank.

"Go!" He shouted through bloody lips. The metal door bulged again. It was close to breaking. The pistol whined several more times, and the Blakist sought to push Taffel off, but the dying man refused to let go.

Frank scooped up the pouch and ran into the darkness.

* * *

You can hear the pounding of your own heartbeat as you dashed down the corridor, your own breath heavy and panicked. You had put the NVGs back on a while ago, as the lights of the corridor dimmed completely just a few meters in. You have no idea where you're going, but you want to be as far away from those brutes chasing you as possible. 

You take a proximity grenade from your waist pouch, pull the pin, and fling it behind you. It probably won't do any damage, but it should slow your pursuers down a bit. You hope it does its job well, because it's the only proximity grenade you brought for this FUBARed mission.

You don't have much left. You take stock of your inventory as you run. The sword, for all it'd do against those cybernetically enhanced monsters. A needler pistol, still unused. Another laser pistol palmed off Taffel when you were dragging him out. One flare stick. And you're out of grenades.

You almost trip over a pipe, but stumble forward, and continue running. You check your waist pouch reflexively for the data chips. Still there.

You've ditched the ultrasonic scanner sometime back, but you still have an electronic codebreaker. And you have a feeling you might need it for whatever is at the end of these corridors.

_Pant, pant_. You've lost track of how long you've been running. Was it five minutes, or ten? Your breath is becoming ragged, as the adrenaline and fear that drove you slowly wore off, leaving a bone deep fatigue that could be your death if you slow down or stop. You never much liked PT back at the NAIS, and becoming a mechwarrior and a rebel hasn't made you any more appreciative.

You wonder what is at the end of the corridor. More of what that guy called 'Manei Domini'? If so, you may as well give up now. It's only the hope, however faint, of finding something that could get you out of this mess that keeps you going forward.

If you listen carefully, you think you can hear the clop, clop sounds of your pursuers. It's some distance back, but it seemed to be getting slightly louder as you ran. Maybe they're gaining on you. You're not surprised if that's true.

Well, don't think about anything else! One foot in front of the other, and step it up, idiot! Or else they're going to catch you and mount_your_ head on a pike!

You are just about ready to collapse when you see an end to the corridor. Surprise, surprise, it's another security door with a keypad.

You quickly plug in the codebreaker, praying to God that it'll open the door before they catch up with you. You take in several lungfuls of air to get your breath back, then pull out the laser pistol. It seemed awfully inadequate, but that's the best you have.

Not too many choices you have at the moment.

They're getting nearer. Your fingers tighten on the laser pistol, and you're so afraid you're gripping the pistol so hard that you think it might break. Worse of all, your bladder is screaming for release. Then you did urinate down your pants.

Not exactly cut out for heroic last stands, eh? Despite all that knowledge rattling around in your brain, you're still pathetically Frank Meronac, underequipped, outnumbered, and as usual, _wayyyyy_ in over his head.

The first enemy appears, and you obligingly miss high with your first burst from the laser pistol as he rolled to one side. It's one of the snipers, the one you hit in the chest with the shotgun. You can see ballistic plate armor under the remains of the sneak suit. No wonder he didn't suffer a scratch. But how the heck was he able to run so fast wearing ballistic plate?

The sniper runs at you with both hands bare and to his sides, his body posture low. You try to shoot again, but the laser pistol only gives a sad whine. It's out of power.

You toss the pistol at the sniper, trying to gain some time, but he's barely fazed by the impact of the weapon against one shoulder as he springs at you in a leap. You draw your sword. If the guy's foolish enough to go _mano-a-mano_ without a weapon, you're only too happy to oblige.

You change your mind quickly when two blades suddenly pop out from between his fingers on both hands. You react fast enough to parry one hand, but the other slices painfully across your left shoulder, cutting away the armored vest and slicing deep into the shoulder.

You drop and roll away before coming up in a defensive fencing stance. The sniper stares you down, twin blades swinging dangerously at his sides. Blood dripped from his right arm blade. Your blood.

This is really like a bad horror movie. But it's one you've living in right now.

You've enough of being pushed around. You stutter step forward, thrusting the sword forward in what seems to be an unbalanced and clumsy thrust.

The sniper falls for the feint, as you deftly recover, pulling the blade back just enough to regain your balance, then swing, this time for real. The slash catches the sniper in his left arm, but you do not pull back, following the tip of the sword as you press your attack.

The new skills you've gained somehow take over, and you feel like a spectator as you employ moves you've never learnt before, moving like a snake, twisting and turning the sword like a living being. The Manei Domini isn't bad either, probably wanting to hold you in a stalemate until his compatriots arrive.

The codebreaker chimes, and the security door opens. You leap back through the opening, but before you could close it, the sniper follows, attacking fiercely to prevent you from closing it, and taking several hard blows to his left arm for his trouble.

You can't believe anybody fighting this way, sacrificing their limbs and bodies, but you see the fibers from his arm, and you understand. His arms are myomer limbs, and can always be repaired.

Your body is wholly flesh and blood though, and you'll lose _your_ limbs if you're not careful. You yelp as his right arm blade stabs into your thigh, but you take advantage of his momentary difficulty in pulling out the blade to move in and stab your sword into his throat.

The sniper finally fell back to the ground, and you're left howling at the pain in your leg. Flashing red beams from beyond the doorway inform you of the impending arrival of the other Manei Domini. You have to get away.

You look around desperately. Your immediate surroundings seem to be a vehicle bay of sorts, with engines of all types racked in nice neat rows on one side, and various hovercraft parts on the other. The vehicle bay seemed to be located next to a river or the sea, as water lapped softly on the edges of a ramp. You think you can feel the cold night breeze drafting in over the water, which tells you there is a way out. If you can travel over the water.

And conveniently enough, in the middle of the bay, was one hoverbike.

* * *

Frank limped over to the hoverbike, ignoring the bleeding from his leg. He had to escape first. 

It was not difficult to start the hoverbike up. There was a clearly designated 'on' switch on the panel in front of the rider. However, unlike most hoverbikes, there were no handlebars, just a HOTAS similar to that found on aerospace fighters.

A helmet laid on the rider's seat, and Frank quickly donned the helmet, then checked his pouches to ensure the chips are still secure. He climbed into the rider's seat as the engine started its activation sequence. And he was more than a bit terrified of the vibrations coming from the engine, since it was shuddering like some great beast tied to harness.

Frank found that the helmet was similar to a mechwarrior neurohelmet, projecting the HUD directly onto the visor.

_Okay, here goes…_ He eased the throttle forward, and the bike fairly leapt off the ramp onto the water.

Frank's face was ashen white as his instincts took over, maneuvering the bike through the relatively straight waterway before emerging onto the Hudson River. The speedometer on his HUD read 200 kph. And that was with the throttle barely pushed forward.

Frank angled the bike around, trying to get his bearings. Now that he had effectively escaped, he had to evade pursuit and get to a safe location.

The sound of a chopper made him look up. A search chopper, by the looks of it, equipped with a large searchlight, scanned the river for him.

_I'm not going to let you catch me that easily. And if this baby can do what I think it does…_

He grinned, and pushed the throttle all the way forward.

It was a mistake. He found himself gasping as almost 9 Gs of force pushed him back into the rider's seat. The hoverbike barreled down the river towards the upper bay. Frank thought if he could get to the open sea, he could get back inland at any point along the coast.

As the bike continued accelerating over the bay towards the Atlantic, he suddenly found a wrinkle in his plan. The bridge linking Staten Island to Brooklyn was undergoing repairs, and there was some form of netting blocking ships from passing under the bridge.

He swerved the bike around again, and that was when the chopper found him.

Frank ignored the glaring light, and accelerated again, this time for the city. He had to throw off the chopper somehow…

He headed for Liberty State Park. There was a ramp for him to ride up, and he charged forward, right past the park. Into the city.

Traffic at night, especially at this hour, was light, which he was infinitely grateful for as he weaved his way through the streets, seeking to throw off pursuit. He was beginning to feel light headed from loss of blood, which was not a good sign.

He tried to make sense of the bike's readouts and displays. A small radar screen was cluttered with vehicle trackings, but two rapidly moving dots got his attention.

Frank managed to get onto the highway, just as he managed to lose the chopper. Close to the city limits, there were still a fair amount of vehicles on the road, allowing two hovercars to plant themselves behind him.

He fluttered the throttle a bit. Speed was not a problem, but he was not going to accomplish the mission if he ended up crashing the bike into the rear of a truck in his haste to escape. And there were far too many trucks for him to go as fast as he would have wanted.

They played a dangerous game on the highway, weaving in and out of the large vehicles on the road. Frank was getting desperate as he felt his vision clouding over.

Then suddenly, the vehicles thinned. Frank saw his chance, and pressed forward. The hoverbike shot like a bolt, leaving the two hovercars far, far behind.

Frank dared not stop moving. He went off the highway as soon as he spotted some farmland, and once he was on the plains, he went even faster. He headed north for a long time, before fatigue and blood loss made him slow down. He found himself in some nature reserve, and he barely had enough energy to stash the bike under a cave and bind up his wounds before finally falling unconscious.

* * *

Some things about this chapter. I had in mind the chase scene from the very start, though it's one of those things that seem more exciting in movies than on paper. Also, since the _Blaze_ hoverbike is so fast, it's hard to contrive a longer scene. 

How fast, you ask? Well, how about Mach 2? Constructed using HMV, so it's L3 legal. _REALLY!!!_

BattleTech Vehicle Technical Readout

VALIDATED

Type/Model: Blaze Hoverbike

Tech: Inner Sphere / 3070

Config: Hovercraft

Rules: Level 3, Standard design

Mass: 0.38 tons

Power Plant: 25 XXL Fusion Supercharger

Cruise Speed: 1857.6 km/h

Maximum Speed: 2786.4 [3715.2 km/h

Armor Type: Standard

Armament: None

Manufacturer: (Unknown)

Location: (Unknown)

Communications System: (Unknown)

Targeting & Tracking System: (Unknown)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Overview:

During the planning for their jihad, the Word of Blake realised they needed a vector capable of delivering weapons of mass destruction to targets.

Many options were explored, from satellite deployed missiles, to robotic hamster agents sneaking into enemy territory. In the end, they found that none of these could replace the innate cunning and the ability to plan and improvise of a human being.

For example, the surprise factor, which could be so crucial in a war, would not be attained if they tried saturating defenses with Arrow IV nukes. What if the key targets were not at the impact area? All these different scenarios led them to conclude that the best mode of delivery was having a believer actually bring the WMD to the target area, scoop it out for the best spots to place it, deliver the WMD, and then depart the area as quickly as possible.

As a result, a fast vehicle was needed for such duties. VTOLs were ruled out because they were too conspicuous. Tracked and wheeled vehicles were often too slow. So they created the Blaze, a hoverbike with unprecedented speed.

Capabilities:

The fastest manned ground vehicle ever built, the Blaze hoverbike is not meant to be ridden by the faint of heart. Capable of fatal acceleration from stop to top speed, the Blaze cannot be controlled by conventional means.

A joystick, along with a neurohelmet for automatic balance similar to that used by mechwarriors is utilized to control the Blaze. The driver does not actually use handlebars to direct the bike, as the shear forces at maximum speed would probably tear his arms off. A sophisticated aerospace-quality fly-by-wire system is installed to ensure that the Blaze gets to where it is supposed to.

Special protection for the driver is provided by a retractable canopy made of a flexible plastic that conforms to the aerodynamic shape of the bike, shielding the driver from the howling winds that could tear him off the bike when making sudden turns. In addition, special speed controls regulate the vehicle's acceleration to tolerable levels for a human body - the vehicle is capable of 80Gs of acceleration with the limiters off, which would kill a person instantly.

The use of an expensive XXL fusion engine causes it to pump out extreme amounts of heat, even when it is idling. As a result, a series of elaborate cooling jackets protect the driver from the intensely hot engine, shunting the heat into the back of the bike. When the bike moves, the air behind it shimmers, like for aerospace jets and thrusters.

The engine itself is a marvel of construction. Weighing just a mere 170 kilograms, it only needs to worry about overheating that would affect the

internal plasma bottling.

--------------------------------------------------------

Type/Model: Blaze Hoverbike

Mass: 0.38 tons

Construction Options: Fractional Accounting

Equipment: Items Mass

Int. Struct.: 4 pts Standard 0 .04

Engine: 25 XXL Fusion 4 .17

Shielding & Transmission Equipment: 0 .09

Engine Supercharger: 1 .02

Cruise MP: 172

Flank MP: 258 [344

Heat Sinks: 10 Single 0 .00

Cockpit & Controls: 0 .02

Crew: 1 Members 0 .00

Lift Equipment: 0 .04

Armor Factor: 0 pts Standard 0 .00

Internal Armor

Structure Value

Front: 1 0

Left / Right Sides: 1 0/0

Rear: 1 0

Weapons and Equipment Loc Heat Ammo Items Mass

--------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------

TOTALS: 0 5 .38

Items & Tons Left: 0 .00

Calculated Factors:

Total Cost: 266,013 C-Bills

Battle Value: 2

Cost per BV: 133,006.56

Weapon Value: 0 / 0 (Ratio .00 / .00)

Damage Factors: SRDmg 0; MRDmg 0; LRDmg 0

BattleForce2: MP: 72H, Armor/Structure: 0 / 0

Damage PB/M/L: -/-/-, Overheat: 0

Class: GL; Point Value: 0

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In hindsight, it's a good thing I had a 3 year hiatus, because CBT gave me Manei Domini to play with for the Terra storyline! While canon fiction had 5 types of Manei Domini(Alpha Ghosts, Beta Wraiths, Delta Banshees, Tau Zombies, and Omega 'Pilots'), I added one more – the Sluagh, to fit in better with the more sci-fi aspect of my fiction, to tie in better with what has gone before, and provide an additional threat. Namely, the Word of Blake, in the two months following Frank's escape, have managed to perfect their rewrite technology. They then wedded that technology to another secretive project exploring psi to create the implants for the Sluagh, who're their brainwashers and indoctrinators. (MW3 rules for Sluagh up sometime in the future, when I have time to think it through more carefully…)

As for the other normal Manei Domini, I think you'll agree they're already frightfully scary to go up against. I also think this is one of the very few attempts to describe Manei Domini in close up action, and I wanted to do justice to their depiction as really scary foes with that 'we're fucked' factor when they appear. I know, I know, I wasn't 100 accurate, since Alpha Ghosts aren't supposed to have cybernetic limbs, but let's just chalk that one down to artistic license. **_Edit: No problem after Jihad Hot Spots 3072 cleared Ghosts for extensive myomer implantations and enhanced inbuilt weaponry. And damn! They even have MASC for prosthetic legs!!!_**

The 2nd person thing? Just trying it out. I also wanted to use that section to depart a bit from the usual norm of heroes being always larger than life, gung-ho, facing certain death with defiance writ large. So borrriiiing. So I went the opposite way for a bit, get in the mind of the character a bit. Instead of gritting his teeth, Frank whimpers. And even browns his pants. For a protagonist, he's really quite a wimp. But enjoy this character as he is now while you can, because it's not going to last.

Next chapter is, I think, again on Frank, and now that we've seen the _Blaze_, next up is the _Vampire_, a stealth omnimech, along with some progression of the Illuminati sub-plot. Hmm… heavy PPCs, MMLs… I'm lovin' it! (No, not the Celestials… yet.)

**_Edit: Just got my hands on Jihad Hot Spots 3072, and they changed the Manei Domini a bit, especially how the ranks and specializations work. The roman alphabet denotes rank(Alpha, Beta, Omicron etc), while the undead designation denotes role(Ghost, Wraith, Phantom, Poltergeist etc). As a result, I'm changing the Dominator designation to simply Sluagh, for the Irish captors of souls. Which is very appropriate. So a precentor who specializes in infiltration would be a Sigma Wraith, and an adept in brainwashing would be a Beta Sluagh. Also, Manei Domini who're of Precentor rank(Sigma, Omicron) also get a cool name, taken from those of demons and angels. Apollyon(Precentor Pantsless for those in the know), Naamah, Uriel, etc._**


End file.
